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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



PLAYS 



BY 



OLIVER P. PARKER 



The Winning of Latane 

Better Than Gold 

The Valedictory 

Lone Star 



COPYRIGHT 1916 

BY 

OLIVER P. PARKER 



All Rights Reserved to 

THE NATIONAL DRAMA CO. 

Goodwyn Institute 

Memphis, Tenn. 



CHIS Portfolio of Parker Plays has been 
prompted by the very cordial reception ac- 
corded by the best Entertainers in all parts of the 
United States (Home Talent) to the first edition, 
and by a recognition of the fact that the General 
Public loves a play with just enough laughter to 
brush the tears away and make enjoyable the con- 
tinual pull at the heart strings as the plot unfolds 
the old-old-ever-new theme of love. 

The author therefore presents thru the National 
Drama Co., of Memphis, Tenn., this new and im- 
proved edition in the hope that it may prove of 
some slight assistance to those who favor the better 
plays and are willing to substitute them for the 
ordinary. 

The National Drama Company offers this play 
on the most liberal terms anywhere to be had, and 
trusts the integrity of all who may receive a copy 
not to offer it to the public without express permis- 
sion for each and every production. Any breach of 
this trust will be vigorously prosecuted by me. 

The Author. 



SPECIAL NOTICE 

eACH of the following four Plays is pro- 
tected by United States copyright, with 
all rights reserved to The National 
Drama Co., (Goodwyn Institute, Memphis, 
Tenn.), from whom a written Copyright Priv- 
ilege License must be had for each and every 
public production. Their charge of $5.00 
covers Copyright Privilege License and a full 

set of parts for rehearsal. 

THE AUTHOR. 

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The Winning of Latane 



By 

Oliver P. Parker 



Copyrighted, 1914 



The Winning of Latane 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

PHILIP P. CASHTON — President Cashton Phosphate Co., 
and father of Latane. 

MRS. PHILIP P. CASHTON — Step-mother to Latane, and 
aids villain. 

RUTH SPAULDING — Private Secretary to Mr. Cashton, 
and divorced wife of villain. 

JULIUS SEARS — First villain, man of millions and suitor 
for Latane's hand. 

ROBERT SPARR — Second villain, superintendent Cash- 
ton Co., and friend of Sears. 

CYRUS W. GILBERT — Chairman board of directors, Up- 
land Phosphate Co. 

TRUSTY HOPKINS— Faithful negro servant. 

FRANK EFFORTON — Faithful employee of Mr. Cashton, 
and loves his daughter. 

LATANE CASHTON — Faithful daughter of Mr. Cashton, 
and loves Frank. 

— ALSO— 

TOMMIE HEINZ — Office boy. 

RICHARD PRINCE — Newsboy. 

HARRY FORREST — Messenger Boy. 



STAGE SETTING — Any dark or dingy scenery. Doors 
R. and L. Office desk or table, with ohair and some 
papers, L. Counter, or table, R., with several bottles on 
it, and one large bottle partly filled with clean water. 
Half dozen soda fountain glasses. Such other apparatus 
for chemical laboratory as are convenient. The more the 
better. 



ACT I. 

SCENE — Laboratory, Cashton Phosphate Com- 
pany; morning. 

COSTUMES AND MAKE-UP— Miss Spani- 
eling, young woman in neat working dress. 

Trusty — Old negro, bald wig, working clothes. 

Sparr — Young man, clean shaven, nobby business, 
suit. 

Frank — Young man, neat business suit, clean 
shaven. 

Sears — Prince Albert, silk hat, gloves and cane. 

Mr. Cashton — Man of sixty, gray hair and side- 
burns. 

Boys — Any old way. 



Ruth — (Enters, left, on curtain. Looks about 
room and calls.) Trusty, oh, Trusty-Trus-ty. 

Trusty — (Off right.) Yassam, Miss Spauldiir, 
I'se er comin' fas es I kin. (Enters R.) Dat ding- 
busted furnas jes' won't git hot. I'se been er mon- 
keyin' wid hit eber since afo' day. En Massar Frank 
tole me ter be sho' ter have hit hot when he cum back 
fum Washin'ton. I got er good fiah in her now, but 
I'se afeard I got smut all ober me. Kin yer see any 
on ma face? 

Ruth — (Laughing.) Well, there isn't any show- 
ing, Trusty. (Sits at desk and arranges papers.) 

Trusty — Ef hit done show hit's alright. Hit's 
jest whut shows dat counts. 

Ruth — That's right. The world judges by what 
it sees. And upon a fair face smut shows plainest. 

Trusty — Dat's de 'vantage er bein' black. 'I neber 
seed hit afore. 

Ruth — You are a great philosopher. Run into 
the main office and get my typewriter. I am going 
to remain down here and work with you and Mr. 
Efforton today. 

Trusty — (Going L.) Yassam. We's glad ter 
have you. Massar Frank don't talk much when he's 
at wuk, 'ceptin' when Miss Latane cums en helps 
'em, but I 'speck he'll talk ter you. (Exit L.) 

Ruth — If all my work were as pleasant as this 
I do for Mr. Efforton, my days would not be so long 
and tedious. (Enter Trusty, L., with typewriter.) 

Trusty — Here yer is. Whar mus' I put her? 

Ruth — Here on this desk will do. (T. places type- 
writer.) Thank you, ever so much. 

Trusty — You'se eber so welcum. (Looks at hands.) 
I may have got sum smut on her, but her complexun 
is about de same es mine, 'en I guess (with dignity) 
de worm Id '11 never see hit. 

Ruth — Has Mr. Efforton come to the office yet? 

Trusty — Nome, but Mr. Sparr have, en he didn't 
want me ter take dat typewriter, uther. He said 
he needed you up dar. 

Ruth — I will look after my work in the main of- 
fice when I have finished here. 

Trusty — Dat's right. You stay wid us. I 'spec 
I better see 'bout dat funnace. I'll be glad when I 
gits er permoshun, so'se I won't haf ter git so black 



en dirty. (Exit K.) (Enter Harry, messenger book 
in hand.) 

Ruth — Good morning, Harry. 

Harry — Good mornin', Miss Spaulding. (Offers 
book.) Some messages for you. (She takes two mes- 
sages out, and signs book, banding it back.) Have 
you moved your desk down here? 

Ruth — Only for today. I'm doing some special 
work for Mr. Efforton. 

Harry — Any messages to go out? 

Ruth — I do not think of any. 

Harry — That new superintendent up in the main 
office is kinder sore, ain't he? 

Ruth — Why do you say that ? 

Harry — I ask for you, en he said, "She's down in 
the furnace room, playing hookie, while the boss is 
away." 

Ruth — He likes to be unpleasant, Harry. I guess 
he's bilious. 

Harry — Ef de guy gits too bilious Mr. Frank'l 
give 'em de rest cure. Everybody in town is sayin' 
Mr. Frank is goin' ter be rich. What's he done? 

Tommy — (Entering.) He ain't done nuthing, but 
work. (Messenger boy is heard out L., crying 
papers.) 

Dick — (Off stage L.) Mornin' papers. Paper, 
Mister? (Enters L.) Mornin', Miss Spauldin'. Don't 
yer want er paper ter read all about Mr. Frank's big 
invention. The paper's full about him. 

Ruth — Yes, thank you. (Hands him coin and 
takes paper.) 

Dick — (Pointing out news item.) There it is on 
the front page. I guess he won't be hittin' 'em up 
down here like er miner any more. 

Ruth — (Looking at paper.) O, that is so nice for 
Mr. Efforton. He deserves all they say. 

Trusty — (Entering R.) Gee Whilliker, Miss 
Spauldin', Massar Frank said fur me not ter let any- 
body in heah, 'ceptin', you, en I done got de whole 
darn town flockin' down heah. 

Ruth — They are going now. Just listen, Trusty, 
what the papers are saying this morning about Mr. 
Efforton. (Heads.) "Mr. Frank Efforton leaves 
Washington tonight with Letters Patent on the 
greatest invention of the year. He is receiving flat- 



tering offers, but declines them all." And just a lot 
of nice things. 

Trusty— 1 knowed it. I knowed it. He ain't been 
shot up in heah fur so long fur nuffin'. 

Ruth— And just think, the most important is yet 
to follow. Run now, boys, we must get to work. 
(.Boys exit L., meeting Sparr.) 

£^<OT_Good morning, Miss Spaulding. 

Ruth — Good morning, Mr. Sparr. 

Sparr— Trusty, go up to my office and tell anyone 
who comes that I will be there in a few minutes. 

Trusty— Yassar. (Exit L.) 

Sparr— (Looking about.) Has Mr. Efforton 
thrown his doors open to the public again ? 

Buth—H you refer to the boys being in here, I 
would say they came on business. If you refer to 
my being here, I have only to say I am here at Mr. 
Efforton s request. He asked me to copy the reports 
on his experiments with the new process. As soon as 
I have finished I shall look after the work in your 
office. 

Sparr— ( Very pleasantly. ) O, you misunderstood 
me. I was not complaining, Miss Spaulding. I 
thought I might be able to help you in some manner. 
Won t you let me read the reports while you copy? 

Ruth— You are very kind, Mr. Sparr, but I cannot 
accept your offer. These reports are strictly confi- 
dential, and I cannot let anyone see them. 

Sparr— ( Aside.) Confound her. I must have 
those papers today. (To her.) I'm not all bad, my 
friend. You have always conducted yourself to- 
wards me as if you hated me. This hurts just a 
little; for I am sure my regard for you does not 
merit such a feeling. 

Ruth— Mr. Sparr, I am here to work, and not to 
make love. 

Sparr— Won't you listen to me? 

R uthr-Rv. I cannot. This work must be done 
before Mr. Efforton^returns. 

Sparr— Have you had any word from Mr. Cash- 
ton or Mr. Efforton this morning? 

Ruth—Yes. Mr. Cashton has & wired that he will 
be here at 10 o'clock, and Mr. Efforton is expected 
any minute. 

Sparr— (Aside.) I must get busy. By the way, 



Miss Spaulding, I hope you will not think I am try- 
ing to assume authority in Mr. Cashton's absence, 
but I will ask that you give me the combination to 
the vault. I desire to look over some notes that ara 
due. 

Ruth — I will give you the (Rising) notes, but not 
the key. 

Sparr — Please don't trouble to do it now. Ruth, 
you are cruel to show such distrust for me. I may 
(have seemed careless about your happiness, but 
really it is a matter that is very close to my heart. 
I have watched you work here, and it seems to me 
that you are very unhappy. I love you, Ruth, and 
want you to love me. 

Ruth— MR, SPARR ! 

Sparr — Won't you let me take you out of this 
drudgery and make you happy in a home of your 
own, where no one shall say to you, "Do this, or do 
that?" Yon are tired and lonely, Ruth, let me love 
you. 

Ruth — This is madness. What you ask of me is 
impossible and must always be so. Indeed, I am 
tired and lonely, but there is no remedy but work. 
Please do not say more, Mr. Sparr. It is impossible. 
I could never love you. 

Harry — (Entering, L.) A telegram for you, Mr. 
Sparr. , 

Sparr — (Opening message.) Great Scott! Here's 
a stunner. My old college chum wires me that he 
met Latane down at the seashore and is coming here 
to win her. Will you be kind enough to take this 
reply ? 

Ruth — (Placing sheet of paper in typewriter.) 
Certainly, sir. I am here to serve you. 

Sparr — (Kindly.) O, don't put it that way. 
(Dictating.) "Glad you are coining. Can promise 
you merry chase." (Lay^ message he received on 
desk.) There is the name and address. Please send 
it paid. (When Ruth has written the answer she 
picks up address, and when she sees the name she 
casts it from her, saying in a hissing tone, and 
sadly — ) 

—Ruth— JULIUS SEARS! (Lets her head fall 
into hand, elbow resting on desk.) 

Sparr — Why, what's the matter? 

10 



Ruth — I'm alright. (Writes name and address.) 

Sparr — I'm afraid you are ill, my dear. 

Ruth — (Handing message unfolded.) There. 

Sparr— 1 cannot bear to see you suffer this way, 
my darling. 

Ruth — Do not speak so endearingly to me, Mr. 
Sparr. 

Sparr — I didn't think you would care if I sym- 
pathized with you. 

Ruth — I don't, provided you sympathize in a 
proper manner. 

Sparr — If I didn't love you, I might. 

Harry — Is there an answer to that message ? 

Sparr — (Savagely.) Don't get too confounded 
pert. (Hands him message.) Rush that. 

Harry — (At door.) Gee! But you are bilious. 
(Exit, L.) 

Ruth — You are right when you guess that I am 
tired and lonely, and I do not feel able to work to- 
day. With your permission I will go home. 

Sparr — I do not understand this strange conduct. 

Ruth — You have just expressed a deep regard for 
me, Mr. Sparr, and I am relying on it when I give 
you the deep secret of my heart. It will explain 
why I cannot love you — why I can never be happy 
again. Just a few years ago I was a strong, light- 
hearted working girl — poor, but happy. One day a 
mm saw me and pretended to fall in love with my 
youth and beauty. He was a very rich man, and 
stopped at nothing to make me happy and certain 
of his love. I yielded and married him. ( Weeps. > 
Then, when I was happiest, he found another beauti- 
ful girl and by abuses and unbelievable treatment, 
drove me out into the world, penniless and friend- 
less, broken in health and wholly unfit to live. And 
now, when I have found pleasant employment, he 
comes across my path again with the avowed inten- 
tion of wrecking the life of another noble girl. 

Sparr — (Aside.) Naughty boy. 

Ruth — If you love me, as you have just declared, 
will you do me a favor? 

Sparr — Why, of course, I will. What is it ? 

Ruth — Help me save this innocent girl from such 
a wreck. 

Sparr — You and I against Julius Sears would be 
ll 



as straw in the wind. He will have Latane round 
his finger before Efforton knows he is on the field. 

Ruth — Promise me you will not aid him and I 
will give you the key to the vault, or any other 
information you wish. 

Sparr — I promise. (Enter Tommy, L.) 

Tommy — Sir. Sears wishes to see you, Mr. Sparr. 

Sparr — Bring him down. (Exit, T., L.) 

Ruth — (Going R.) Please do not let him know 
I am here. (Exit, R.) (Enter Sears, L., quickly 
and full of life.) 

Sears — Bah, jove, Robert. Glad to see you. 
(They shake hands.) 

Sparr — It's the same old sporty Julius of the 
college days. How glad I am to see you. Sit down. 
You travel faster than telegrams. 

Sears — Nothing like being swift, Robert. (Pull- 
ing off gloves.) You see, I learned that Miss Cash- 
ton would arrive this morning and I wanted to be 
here to greet her. O, my boy (claps him on back), 
she is a dandy. Sweet, modest and beautiful. And 
I mean to make her my next Mrs. Sears. By the 
way, who was that skirt who left just as I came in? 
Up to your old tricks, eh ? 

Sparr — She was our private secretary, that's all. 

Sears — Private secretary might mean anyone. 
Who was she, I say.? 

Sparr — Her name is Ruth Spaulding. 

Sears — (Startled.) You mean — 

Sparr — Yes, Mrs. Sears, that was — 

Sears — Will that woman haunt me always ? 

Sparr — She ought to. 

Sears — Not on your life. She will make trouble 
here. We must get her away. 

Sparr — Not yet. I'm playing a little game of my 
own here, and I need her myself. You see, she has 
the confidence of this fellow Efforton — 

Sears — Pardon me, but I want to know is Latane 
in love with him. 

Sparr — Hopelessly. 

Sears — Oh, I'll bring her to terms alright. Go 
on and tell me about this Efforton fellow. 

Sparr — Well, he is a young man here in the plant 
who does pretty much as he pleases. A poor boy 
who was taken in by Mr. Cashton a long while ago. 

12 



He is a genius at chemistry and mechanics, and has 
perfected a wonderful process for the separation of 
phosphate from the crude ore; and a furnace also 
to use in connection with his process. Miss Spaul- 
ding handles his correspondence with the Washing- 
ton attorneys, and— well, you know the rest. I want 
these secret processes. 

Sears— Ah, I see. I thought there was a nigger 
in the woodpile somewhere. She makes a fellow un- 
derstand that she is saving herself for some fellow 
at home, don't-cher-know. 

Sparr — Well, he's your man. 

Sears—This is getting interesting. I have been 
reading about these inventions in the press, but I 
did not think they would ever interest me. I always 
wait until these poor devils have worked out their 
inventions, and then I propose to organize a big 
corporation to promote their interests. They usually 
get rich— in EXPERIENCE— and I get the inven- 
tions. Perhaps, ah, it occurs to me that this fellow 
may need some financial assistance. Hey? Bright 
idea ? 

Sparr— Re is as poor as a church mouse, but he 
has a way of sifting everything down to rock bot- 
tom. I advise you to try something else. 

Sears— By George ! He's got his bluff in on you, 
alright. You watch me bring him round where he 
will eat out of my hand. (Looks right and left.) 
Are we alone? 

Sparr— Quite. We are in his laboratory. 

Sears— ( Looking round room.) You don't mean 
to tell me that fellow calls this a laboratory ! 

Sparr — Isn't it a dandy? 

Sears— Why I could drink all the chemicals in 
his stock and'not miss a meal. And you tell me he 
has worked out in this place a great process? 

Sparr— This is the spot. 

Sears — What's he doing away "from here today? 

Sparr — Declining big salaries and offers princi- 
pally. 

Sears — Why doesn't the fool accept some of them ? 

Sparr— Oh, he wants to keep them in this com- 
pany and — well, you see when he marries Latane — 

Sears — And so you think I won't get her. 

Sparr— I never saw you fail, Julius, but take my 

13 



advice and fight like Harry, for you are up against 
a man. 

Sears — Alright, then fight it shall be. I need your 
help. Are you with mef 

Sparr — Provided it does not interfere with my 
plans. 

Sears — You say your plans are to get the secret 
processes. If you will do as I say it will be easy 
to rob this girl's father of the company and patents 
and his daughter, too. The company and patents I 
will give you. Is that satisfactory? 

Sparr — Do you really mean it, old chum? 

Sears — Yep. She is cheap at any price. Now if 
you are agreed I will tell you some of my plans. 
First, this Ruth Spaulding must be gotten away 
from here. She will make truoble. Can't you make 
love to her and get her to leave the offices? 

Sparr — I tried that, but couldn't hit a lick. 

Sears — Then DRIVE her away. Here, give her 
this check. It is for $5,000. I ought to have given 
her something anyhow. Tell her to go and rest. 
She needs it. 

Sparr — I think she will go for this sum. 

Sears — Now, listen. You say this Efforton fellow 
is going to keep his inventions in this company. That 
is all I want to know. The rest is easy. This girl's 
father is a good fellow, but he wants to Be rich. I 
am going to play on this line. I have some rich 
friends in the city who will join me in a great big 
scheme to organize the leading phosphate companies 
into a trust. The plans are already under way, and 
they are subscribing to large blocks of stock 
to give the matter a good front. Of course, you 
understand the thing is a farce. They are going to 
Mr. Cashton and propose this matter. They are to 
tell him he has been selected as the President of the 
consolidated companies, with $5,000,000 of the stock 
in lieu of his company AND THESE PATENTS. 
Now, when everything is in shape I am to come out 
as the chief promoter of this affair. Don't you think 
his daughter will feel impressed with my generosity 
to her father and be kindly disposed to me ? Besides, 
my twenty millions ought to mean something to her. 

Sparr — Julius, you are great. I wish you luck. 
Miss Cashton refused me once, but I do not think 

U 



she can refuse a jolly good fellow like yourself. I 
will do whatever you ask me, for I see now that you 
are not going to lose. 

Sears— Of course I am not going to lose. You 
coach Mr. Cashton on this matter, and try to get 
Efforton to fall in. If he seems to feel afraid let 
him down easy. I will get his patents for you. Or, 
if not, give you their value in something else. 

Sparr— Thanks, old chap. 

Sears— Don't mention it. (Rising.) I must be 
going. Latane will be here pretty soon. I am to go 
with her mother to meet her. Do you know her 
mother? Poor old soul. She is crazy for the girl 
to marry me. She will be our first lieutenant. Ha, 
ha. Get busy now, and when I return I want to 
learn that Ruth Spaulding is gone. I'll see you here 
tomorrow morning. Keep your eye down the gun, 
and remember— his company for you— his daughter 
for me. (Exit, L.) 

Sparr— -What a pleasure it is to feel that the girl 
who would not listen to my pleadings is to be the 
wife of the greatest debauche New York ever pro- 
duced. 

T rus ty— ( Enters, L.) I kain't stay up dar no 
longer. Mr. Frank tole mje ter have de funnace 
hot. 

Sparr— It is strange that I can give no orders that 
do not come in conflict with his. Tell Miss Spaulding 
I wish to speak to her. (Exit, T., R.) When I get 
this company . . . (Enter Ruth, R.) Miss 
Spaulding, I've been sitting here thinking of you, 
and have decided a great question in your favor. 
You deny me the pleasure of providing for your 
happiness, but I ask that youjio not deny me the 
pleasure of feeling that I have done what you would 
let me do to make you happier. I have already 
promised you I'd not aid Mr. Sears, and I shall keep 
that promise without asking you to give me those 
reports. Here is a check for $5,000 which I ask 
you to accept as from a friend. My father left me 
plenty of money and I won't miss it. If you will 
promise me to go and rest, and remain away from 
this work one month, I will give it to yoa. 

Ruth — Mr. Sparr, you are very kind, but I must 
decline the offer. As for the reports, I have already 

15 



decided not to give them to you. Mr. Efforton 
has confided in me and I mean to keep the trust. I 
was mad when I promised you. I think I shall 
remain here and work. 

JSparr — Look here, Miss Spaulding. You cannot 
afford to take this position. Here is happiness and 
comfort for you. Go live in luxury, and when this 
gives out I will give you more. 

Ruth — I have given you my decision, Mr. Sparr, 
and it is as unchangeable as the law of the Medes 
and Persians. I am needed here, and shall stay. 
(Sits at desk.) 

Sparr — What a noble girl you are. I love you 
more than ever. Tell me you do care. (Attempts 
to embrace her.) 

Ruth — (Rising quickly.) Stop ! Don't touch me ! 

Sparr — Don't scold me like that. I didn't mean 
to insult you. 

Ruth — Your presence is the greatest insult you 
could offer me. You have lied to me. You have 
tried to bribe me. And then you would disgrace me. 
Julius Sears gave you that check and prompted you 
to these insults. I can see his black hand in all 
you say. I know it too well. Indeed, I have suf- 
fered much at his hands, but through it all, thank 
heaven, I have remained true and pure. And if your 
bribe were ten thousand times what it is, I'd say 
NO! (Points to door.) Now, go! (Enter Sears, 
L.) (Ruth screams and faints in chair.) 

Sears — (Laughing.) Why don't you go. She'll 
come back in a few minutes and scratch your eyes 
out. Leave her in my hands. 

Sparr — Julius, you'd better get out of here. 

Sears — I'm able to take care of myself. Leave us. 
(Exit Sparr, R.) Ha, ha, fainted — I've seen you 
faint before. How natural you look. This is the 
first time I have had the pleasure to see you since I 
drove you out of your gilded cage. 

Ruth — O, go away. Go away. 

Sears — Aha, Ruth Spaulding. What are you do- 
ing here? 

Ruth — You should be satisfied with the destruc- 
tion of my life, and not come here to drive me away 
from the only means I have of earning my daily 
bread. 

16 



Sears — (Sneeringly.) Go! Get out of my sight, 
and stay away, or I'll punish you so that you can 
not earn your daily bread. Go ! I say ! 

Ruthr- (With, feeling.) You have left but little 
life in my poor body, but I mean to use what 
strength I have to prevent you from bringing shame 
and dishonor to the fair name of Latane Cashton. 
(Enter Frank, L., standing at door surprised.) 

Sears — (Savagely.) You drive me mad. (Starts 
at her. Frank seizes him roughly by collar and 
jerks him back, stepping between Sears and Miss S.) 

Frank — You puppet ! What does this mean ? Who 
are you ? 

Sears— 1 am Julius Sears and she is my wife. 

Frank — That does not give you the right to abuse 
her. 

Sears — Don't you dare dictate what I shall do. 

Frank — (Laughing at him.) A man of many 
millions, and standing high in society, pretending to 
be a gentleman, stoops so low as to try to intimidate 
a poor, defenseless woman, cast upon the world by 
your lasciviousness and infidelity. Not dictate to 
YOU what to do? Julius Sears, you are in my of- 
fice and in the presence of a lady — take off your 
hat. (Points to hat, and holds pose as Sears finally 
slowly removes hat.) Now, remember what I say — 
if ever I hear of you mistreating that woman, or in- 
terfering with her happiness in any way whatso- 
ever, I shall shoot you as I would a viscious dog. 
There is the door — use it. 

Sears- — (With a sneer.) O, very well. There'll 
be another day. (Exit Sears, R.) 

Frank — I beg your pardon for such conduct in 
your presence, Miss Spaulding. What was that man 
doing here? 

Ruth — You were kind to defend me, and I thank 
you. Mr. Efforton, I would like to talk to you as a 
sister to a brother; may I? 

Frank — I do not deserve such confidence, but if 
I can be your friend you have but to tell me how. 

Ruth — It is not that. Rather, I would favor you. 
Right over vour head a heinous plot is being laid to 
destroy your happiness; and not only yours, but 
that of another who is dearer to vou than life itself. 



17 



Frank — For Heaven's sake, Miss Spaulding, what 
do you mean. Go on. 

Ruth — This man is planning a great scheme by 
which he expects to win Mr. Cashton's favor and 
marry the girl who loves you. 

Frank — Let him play his game, Miss Spaulding. 
Mr. Cashton has too much sense to be led into such a 
scheme. And you need not give yourself any anxiety 
as to Latane. You have proven yourself my friend 
and I am going to tell you my heart's sweetest se- 
cret. I love her better than my own life. She has 
been my idol ever since I was eight years old, and 
the days that have passed since then, without excep- 
tion, have given me a better right to believe she will 
be true. She is not engaged to me, nor has she ever 
told me in words that she would be true always ; but 
in far sweeter ways she has told me much more. She 
seems a part of my life. The very blood that runs 
in my veins is purer and better because it knows her 
as a partner in my heart. She is grappled to me 
with hooks of steel which have been forged in my 
hot ambition to win for her, and tempered by her 
own lovely appreciation. O, I tell you, my friend, 
I may doubt all others, but rather than feel afraid 
of her in any crisis, I'd lay me down and die. Sears 
may steal the company, but Latane's heart is far be- 
yond his dirty reach. 

Ruth — Please do not take any chances. This man 
will stop at nothing to win. (Enter Sparr, R.) 

Sparr — Why, good morning, Efforton. 

Sparr — I have been down helping Trusty with the 
furnace. 

Frank — That is kind of you, but I'm sorry you 
troubled with it. Miss Spaulding, the work I want- 
ed you to do is not ready as I thought it would be. 
I have another experiment or two to finish, and will 
then give it to you. 

Ruth — Then I will go to the main office. Let me 
know when you want me. 

i/Y^—Thank you. I will. (Exit Ruth, L.) 

Sparr — I want to congratulate you on your great 
success, Efforton. 

Frank — Thank you very much. I am quite happy 
over it. I hope with these advantages our little 
company will forge to the very front. You know. 



Mr. Sparr, I feel that I owe Mr. Cashton a very 
great debt. I'm going to keep these inventions in 
the company so that he will get the full benefit of 
them. 

Sparr — I have been wondering what you would 
do with them, and congratulate you on your deci- 
sion. With these Mr. Cashton will have no trouble 
getting into the big trust. 

Frank— What trust? 

Sparr — Why the big trust that is forming. Haven't 
you heard about it ? Mr. Cashton is to be president, 
and gets $5,000,000 of stock in lieu of this companj?- 
and your patents — that is, provided you permit them 
to go in. What do you think of this proposition? 

Frank — I know absolutely nothing of the plans 
you speak of, and cannot give an opinion until you 
have told me imore about it. 

Sparr — It's a great plan. Eight of the leading 
phosphate companies have agreed to enter a gigantic 
trust to control the output and price of phosphate. 
Now what do you think? 

Frank — Where are the head offices of this trust 
to be? 

Sparr — That has not been decided? 

Frank — Who are the directors of this trust? 

Sparr — TKey have not been decided upon. 

Frank — What eight companies are entering? 

Sparr — I forget just now. 

Frank — Who is promoting this combination ? 

Sparr — O, ah, er, Mr. Sears ; but he does not want 
it known just yet. A great plan like this must be 
kept a secret, you know. 

Frank — What does Mr. Sears get out of the mat- 
ter? 

Sparr — (Winks at audience.) O, er, er, he gets a 
commission. 

Frank — And you think it a good proposition? 

Sparr — Certainly I do, and I am sure you will 
encourage Mr. Cashton to take the step. 

Frank — I am going to encourage Mr. Cashton to 
take several steps in the opposite direction. 

Sparr — It would seem to me that you ought to do 
all you can for him. He has done a great deal for 
you. 

Frank — Stop right there. You need not remind 

19 



me of my obligations. I will look after them my- 
self. Besides, you are wasting my time. Mr. Cash- 
ton is president of this company. Go talk to him. 

Sparr — O, very well. (Exit, L.) 

Frank — Miss Spaulding was right. The net is 
being laid, and Kobert Sparr is strangely interested. 
I cannot fight this matter as I want to, for the rea- 
son that I love the girl Sears is trying to marry, and 
Mr. Cashton might misunderstand my motive. I will 
do what I can to save him, and trust Latane, as I 
have always done. 

Trusty — (Enters, K.) Hello, dar, Massar Frank. 

Frank — Good morning, Trusty. Is the smelting 
furnace hot? 

Trusty — Yassar. I'se been bavin' hit roun en 
roun' wid dat bloom-gasted furnace. Say, Massar 
Frank, kin yer see any smut on mah fase? 

Frank — Why, I think I see a small speck which 
starts at your hair and runs down to your chin that 
way, and from your right ear across and around to 
your left ear that way. But it looks more like shoe 
polish than anything else. 

Trusty — G'wan, Massar Frank. 

Frank — Alright. Keep that fire going. I will be 
back in a few minutes and want you to help me with 
some particular work. (Exit, L.) 

Trusty — (Going behind table.) Ef I got ter do 
any er dis busticatin' business, I guess I'd better be 
get-tin' limbered up. I'se watched Massar Frank er 
lots, en I reggin I kin git by on hit alright. Now, ef 
I 'members 'erectly, dis business must be oared on 
jest zactly perpendicular ere er fellow '1 get his hade 
blowed off. (Takes up bottles and spells label slow- 
ly.) S-C-H-R-U-M-P-D-I-L-L-A-S-E-C-U-M-P-I-I. 
(Looks at audience.) Now what d'yer think er dat 
fur one word ? I bet dat stuff'd kill er man five hun- 
dred yards. (Takes stopper out and smells, break- 
ing into violent coughing and sneezing. Hurriedly 
puts stopper back and drives it down with fist. ) Git 
in dar, cawk, en hole hit down ef yer kin. By golly, 
dat stuff smells jest like hermonia. (Sets bottle on 
far corner of table.) Go 'way back, Mr. Skrup- 
dillumpkin, en stink yo-self ter def. (Takes up an- 
other bottle and spells.) P-H-O-S-P-H-A-T-I- 
C-L-A-S^B-O-O-M (Pronouncing) Boom. (Sets 

20 



bottle down quickly.) Aw, don't want any er dat. 
Sounds lak it mought shoot. In dis business de main 
thing is ter deal wid things gentle in dey action. 
Done found dat out already. (Spells another one.) 
S-A-L-T-P-E-T-R-E. Aw, I knows dat won't shoot. 
(Pours small amount of gunpowder into crucible 
and turns away so that operator concealed under 
table may touch off with lighted cigar. As cloud of 
smoke rises above his head, Trusty looks back over 
shoulder and sees what has happened. Gazes up at 
vanishing smoke. Another small explosion, at which 
he jumps and grunts. He turns bottle around and 
examines label carefully, taking occasional squint at 
empty crucible.) Salt Petre, I don't understan' you. 
How you 'spec me ter invent sumpin' when you will 
not stay in de fiah en cook? (Picks up another bot- 
tle.) Now we'se er git-tin' into de liquids, en ef I 
kin fine dat bottle what Massar Frank gits when he 
doctors me fur grippe, de liquids'l be gittin' into us. 
Dat dram he gin me was de propper stuff, alright, 
though de bottle didn't have de right name, un de 
stuff looked jest lack water. But hit sho was good. 
(Reads label as before.) T-U-R-P-E-N-T-I-N-E 
(set bottle down). Git outen de way, turpentine. 
You'se dangerous, I know. 'Fraid ter monkey wid 
yer. (Same business.) N-I-T-R-O-G-L-Y-C-E-R-I-N- 
E. Dat's er mighty big name, but hit done soun' bad. 
(Goes to big book on corner of table and looks it up.) 
Aw, yes. Hypoglickum. I thought I was familiar 
wid dat stuff. Dat is jest what I wants ter 'speri- 
ment wid. I knowed dat in all dis drug store dar 
wus somepin' er fellow could monkey wid, widout 
shootin' de top er de house off. Er fellow mustn't 
be erf eared uv er thing jest 'cause hit's got er big 
name. I'll put dis'n on ter bile ontwil I kin make 
man udder selections. I'll bet wid dat thing as er 
starter, I kin invent sumpin' worth er cotton sack 
fuller five spots. (Pours some in crucible and has 
tremendous explosion.) This explosion can best be 
made with shot-gun, operated by operator under ta- 
ble, muzzle of gun pointed up close to crucible. 
Trusty has great fright, Runs round to center, 
knees smiting each other, and holds bottle at arms 
length, letting mouth of bottle point towards his 
face and pushing it away with his hand. Starts 

21 



back behind table walking as if slipping up on some- 
thing. Telephone rings. Another fright. Takes 
down receiver. Hello. (Bottle gets pointed to his 
face.) Er, er, hold on jest er minit. (Puts receiver 
down and crosses his leg on bottle to hold it. Takes 
up receiver.) Now what is dat? Yassar, Massar 
Frank, ebry thing am very quiet. Alright, sah. 
(Hangs up receiver and disengages bottle from legs, 
taking it back to table and looks at label.) Hypo- 
glickum, you sho am rambunctious. Git in yo hole. 
Er little er you goes er long ways. (Picks up little 
red flag and sticks in bottle.) I'll mark you good 
en plain, en nebber 'sperment wid yer no mo'. Now 
I thinks I'll devote de rest er my time lookin' fur 
dat bottle what got grippe medicine in hit. (Heads 
on hurriedly, pronouncing clearly and correctly.) 
Hypo, hydro, Hilo, Nitro, um, urn, extractum, Aqua 
regia distillatum. (Looks at audience.) I bet dat 
las'n am er gun fur sho'. (Reads on, looking at 
big bottle.) Alco, aloo, alco. (Looks at audience 
and smiles.) Dat don't soun' jes right, but de bot- 
tle got de 'erect 'pearance, sho's yer bawn. (Backs 
off and squints at label.) I don't want ter mak er 
mistake heah, 'cause I'se gwine ter swallow some er 
dat stuff, en er sploshun lack dat lasn't 'd be extra 
hazardous. (Shakes bottle.) 00! Jes' look at de 
beads. I wonder kin I string em all. (Pours small 
amount in glass and tastes cautiously, smacking his 
lips.) Alcohol nuffin'. You'se licker, you is. You 
kin change yer name, but I knows yer smell. (Pours 
more and drinks it.) De man whut invented dat 
stuff ain't no blame fool. (Trick pistol rises out of 
desk and points at back of his head. Note: This 
trick pistol can easily be arranged as follows: To 
the end of a rod thirty inches long fasten a bright 
revolver, and bore a hole in top of table to admit rod. 
Operator under table works it so as to keep Trusty 
covered wherever he goes.) Well, I guess I'se made. 
ernuf 'scoveries. En now I feel punectly limbered 
up en ready to help Massar Frank. (Turns so as 
to bring nose up against pistol. Wig turns wrong 
way if wearing that sort. Holds pose instant, eyes, 
bleared. Begins to tremble and slips out to center, 
gun keeping him covered. Tries to evade gun, but 
can't. Finally gives up and settles down on knees, 

22 



hands up, in C, back to L.) I, I, I, I, give up, yer 
got me. (Enter Frank.) Dat you, Massar Frank. 
(Frank laughs heartily.) 
— Frank — The joke is on you this time, Trusty. 

Trusty — I don't mind de joke, but I sutitnly don't 
lack fur dis gun ter be on me. Kain't yer bale me 
out, er do sumpin'? 

Frank — (Removing coat and putting on apron.) 
Why, of course I will. 

Trusty — Well, git er hussle on yer, dat fool thing 
mout take er fool notion ter shoot. (Gun shakes.) 
Now'd yer see dat? 

Frank — See what? ■ 

Trusty — Ebry time I moves hit shakes hit hade 
jest like er durn billy goat. Destract de mind er 
dat thing ontil I kin git behind sumpin'. 

Frank — (Going behind table.) Alright. Now you 
watch me. I'm going to control it by telepaJthy. 
When I think you are my friend — 

Trusty — Say, Massar Frank, stop dat flap doodle 
en git dat gun ofen me. 

Frank — Alright. (Takes gun and pulls rod out, 
laying it down on counter. Pulls Tommie out from 
under table and says:) Get out of here, Tommy. 
You've had fun enough. 

Trusty — (Running after him.) You low down 
white trash. I knowed you wus under dar. He 
thought he had me skeered. 

Frank — I think so, too, Trusty. 

Trusty — Well den, I guess I wus. I thought dat 
thing wus some kind uv er thinkin' machine. 

Frank — It is, Trusty. I leave it here in my ab- 
sence to protect my valuables. If anyone takes my 
property it will arrest him. 

Trusty — Ef dat's de truf, what wus Tommy doin' 
in heah? 

Frank — He likes to watch it operate. Come, let's 
get to work. I will fix the gun so that it will only 
point to those who want something I have. (Pre- 
tends to fix gun, and turns back examining liquid 
in glass.) 

Trusty — Say, Massar Frank. You say you fixed 
hit so'se hit will pint to er fellow what wants some- 
pin' you got? 

Frank — Yes. _ ? 

23 



Trusty — (Sticks rod back through hole, and mo- 
tions to gun to point to him. Takes hold of it and 
pulls it round. Gun swings back when he turns it 
loose. Slaps gun and makes it point to him.) Say, 
Massar Frank. (Gun turns away.) No, wait er 
minit. (Gets gun set on him again.) Massar Frank ! 
Look heah. 

Frank — (Turning round.) What do you want 
that I've got? 

Trusty — Some er dat grippe medicine. 

Frank — (Sets out bottle.) Just help yourself. 

Trusty — All er dis? 

Frank — Yes, but I advise broken doses. 

Trusty — I'll jest make de fust brake wi der haf er 
glass. (Frank is busy examining liquids in glasses.) 
Say, Massar Frank, what am dat in dat fofe bottle 
down dar ? Not dat'n, dat'n. 

Frank — Why, that's nitroglycerine — the most dan- 
gerous explosive known to cheimstry. Don't ever 
monkey with that bottle, Trusty. 

Trusty — You needn't worry. 

Frank — Now, Trusty, you must not bother me. 
I have some important work to do, and you must be 
quick to assist me. 

Trusty — You goin' ter invent sumpin'? 

Frank — Trusty, can you keep a secret? 

Trusty — Jest lack er passel er women? 

Frank — I'm a rich man today. Soon I shall be 
able to feel that I have repaid Mr. Cashton for his 
great kindness to me. 

Trusty — What you goin' ter git outen de jami- 
beree ? 

Frank — The satisfaction that comes to him who 
does his duty. 

Trusty—Is dat all? 

Frank — That's enough. 

Trusty — Say, Massar Frank, do you keer ef de 
ole nigger speaks what he's er thinkin'? 

Frank — What are you thinking, Trusty? 

Trusty — 'Bout Miss Latane. 

Frank — Ah, er, er you go down and examine the 
fire. (Exit T., E.) 'Bout Miss Latane. I'm always 
thinking 'bout Miss Latane. She has been gone, 
three months now, and how I would like to see her. 
Ever since her father took me in, a little street waif, 

24 



no taller than that (measures height of small boy), 
her sweet face has been before me as a light in the 
darkness, leading me into a higher life. To repay 
her father, and make myself worthy of her love has, 
been my religion. I have never been discouraged; 
for I love her, and know she will be true. 

Trusty — (Entering, R.) De fiah am alright. 

Frank — Here, hold this beaker. (Trusty takes 
beaker in which three tablespoons of flour have been 
placed and allowed to settle in water. Frank pours 
in more water, stirring so as to make murky.) Ah, 
that is perfect. (Trusty holds glass up to audience 
and looks at it.) 

Trusty — Buttermilk, by gosh ! What you in- 
venting er cow? 

Frank — Here, hold this. (Hands Trusty soda pop 
bottle half filled with water, and five tablespoon- 
fuls of cooking soda. Picks up bottle with red flag 
in it. (Trusty backs off.) 

Trusty — Look out dar, Massar Frank. Ef you 
goin' ter pour any er dat hypo-glickum in heah, I'd 
much ruther not hold dis bottle. 

Frank — O, come on here. I know what I'm doing. 

Trusty — Dat's whut I thought dis mawnin'. 

Frank — What made you change your mind? 

Trusty — Er, er, er come on. I'll hold hit fur yer. 

Frank — (Pours liberal amount of vinegar in to 
bottle and as soon as effervescence starts, Trusty 
slaps hand over mouth and waltzes around over 
stage much frightened, letting small stream shoot 
occasionally. This business may be carried on ad 
lib.) Hold on to her, Trusty. 

Trusty — You go to de debil. 

Frank — (Goes and takes the bottle, which has 
quieted down.) You just didn't know how to hold it. 

Trusty — Hit wan't me dat couldn't hold it. It 
wus de bottle. 

Frank — I'm afraid you'd never make a chemist. 

Trusty — I don't want to make none, nohow. You 
make 'em, en I'll sell 'em fur you 15 cents er piece. 

Frank — You flatter me. Here there is just one 
other experiment and I believe the work is finished. 
(Sets out alcohol bottle.) Now, when I call for this 
you be quick to hand it to me. (Trusty pours out 
some and drinks it. Frank mixes vinegar and soda 

25 



in large glass and when it is boiling over calls for 
alcohol.) Alright with the alcohol . . . (Trusty 
is drinking.) Confound it. (Enter Latane, L., go- 
ing up to counter and pours alcohol and hands it 
over to Frank, smiling.) Why in the devil don't 
you give me the alcohol? (Reaches out and takes it, 
pouring into glass, which he hastily exchanges for a 
full glass of a beautiful red solution, holding it up 
and looking at it carefully.) Ah, that is wonderful. 
(Hands it out over counter.) Here, take this, and 
if you spill one drop of it I'll break your head. 
(Turns and sees Latane.) Why, hello, Latane. When 
did you come. 

Latane — O, I got here in time to hear that ugly 
word you said. (Offers hand. Frank hesitates.) 

Frank — My hands are soiled. 

Latane — (Taking it.) O, that's alright. 

Frank — If I had known that you were going to 
wait on me, I should have burned my hands off 
before asking for the alcohol the second time. You 
see, Trusty is trying to take your place here with 
me, and, of course, he can't, 

Trusty — I likes dat. 

Latane — Trusty, if you don't wait on Mr. Frank 
just the best kind, I'll take the job away from you. 

Trusty — I guess you'll git hit sooner or later any- 
how. 

Frank — Er, er, er you go down to the furnace 
room. 

Trusty — Alright, Massar Frank. (Exit, R.) 

Latane — Is that the way you do your assistants? 

Frank — Some of them. You see, Latane, you have 
been away, O, so long, and when you blow in just 
like a ray of sunshine I forget everything but you. 
The days have been long here since you went away. 
Latane, do you ever think how happy we used to be 
here in this old laboratory, in the offices and all 
around this dear old plant? 

Trusty — (Enters, R.) De fiah am in fine shape. 

Frank — Go and keep it that way. 

Trusty — (Aside.) Mr. Speaker, I smell er mouse. 
(Exit, R.) 

Latane — Yes, Frank, never a day passes I do not 
try to live over again the happy days spent here with 
you. You see, we grew up together, and — well, I 

26 



just like to stay around here yet. Really, I believe 
I am happier here than anywhere else in the world. 

Trusty — (Entering, R.) De funnace am just as 
hit wus. Am dar anything else I kin do fur ye? 

Frank — (Impatiently.) Yes. Go and get into it. 

Trusty — Alright, Massar Frank. (Starts R. To 
audience.) Huh? 

Frank — It makes me very happy to hear you say 
those things, because my life depends on you for all 
its joys and sweetness. (Advances.) You can make 
me — 

Trusty — Er, Massar Frank, did you REALLY 
mean fur me ter git into de funnace ? 

Frank — Yes. Go fry. 

Latane — O, Frank. 

Frank — Then you give him a job. 

Latane — Trusty, go cool the furnace down very, 
very slowly, and bring it up here — if you had rather. 

Trusty— I'd ruther. (Exit, R.) 

Frank — Before your furnace gets here, Latane, I 
want to tell you of my good luck. My patents have 
gone through, and it will be but a short time until 
I can ask you — 

Trusty — (Entering, R.) Hit refuses ter cum. Lo, 
lo, lo, look out dar, Miss Latane. You'se on de think- 
in' machine. 

Latane — (Picks up pistol.) What is this thing, 
Frank? 

Trusty — Hit am er thinkin' machine. When you 
cum into dis office en want sum alcohol — 

Frank — (Leaves R., laughing.) I'll be back in a 
minute. 

Latane — (Pointing gun at Trusty.) And so you 
think I came for alcohol, do you. 

Trusty — Do, do, don't pint dat thing at me, honey. 
I knows how yer shoots em. En I knows also dat 
yer didn't cum heah fur ALCOHOL, too. He, 
he, he. 

Latane — You are the same old Trusty. Your 
hair is a bit whiter, but your heart has not changed. 
I know you are happy here with Frank. Anybody 
would be. He's such a good and noble fellow. 

Trusty — Dar he cum, now. Tell him what you 
jest tole me. 

Latane — (Going L.) 0, dear, no. I must be go- 

27 



ing. Keep my secret, Trusty. Good-bye. (Exit, L.) 

Trusty — Why don't dey tell each udder dey trou- 
bles. Somebody goin' ter keep foolin' roun' ontwil 
hit am too late. Dis am a business what kain't wait. 

Frank— (Enters. R.) Where is Miss Latane, 
Trusty? 

Trusty — She's done gone. 

Frank — It makes a big difference when she goes, 
doesn't it? 

Trusty — Massar Frank, you done gone clean blind. 

Frank — O, maybe not. (Picks up disc.) What is 
this trash? 

Trusty — Dat ain't no trash. Wid dat thing swal- 
lowed down you' thote, you kin sing lack er quartet. 

Frank — Can you demonstrate? 

Trusty — Wid ease. (Pretends to swallow disc 
with great difficulty. Quartette, all but Trusty, con- 
cealed behind scene, sing familiar plantation song. 
At beginning of song enter Latane, L., and stands 
listening. At conclusion, Frank and Latane ap- 
plaud.) 

Latane — That was fine. I must go now. Good- 
bye, Frank. 

Frank — Good-bye. Come often. We are always 
glad to have you. You will always find a welcome 
wherever I am. 

Latane — I know it. Good-bye. Good-bye, Trusty. 

Trusty — Good-bye, sweet chile. (Exit Latane, 
laughing.) Massar Frank, ain't she fine en dandy? 

Mr. C. — (Entering, L.) Good morning, Frank. 
Glad to see you back. 

Frank — Good morning, Mr. Cashton. I meant to 
come to your office, but Mr. Sparr told me you were 
engaged on an important matter. 

Mr. C. — (Showing pleasure.) You bet I was. 
My boy, I am to be one of the rich men of the city. 
My office has been full of capitalists talking money. 
I nope you had good luck in Washington. 

Frank — Yes, I'm glad to inform you I did. My 
patents have gone through, and (producing large 
envelope) here are the Letters Patent. (Gives them 
to Mr. C.) I mean to give } f ou the full benefit of 
them. 

Mr. C. — Why, Frank, these are worth a fortune, 
my boy, and you give them to me? 

28 



Frank — Yes, sir. I can never repay you for yoiii 
great kindness to me. 

Mr. G. — Tut, tut, boy, you owe me no gratitude. 
You repaid me long ago. But I'll put these into the 
big trust we are forming, and pay you a royalty on 
every ton of phosphate we mine. That will pay you 
well. By the way, what do you think of this trust \ 

Frank — I do not know enough about the matter 
to form an opinion. Sparr had something to say, 
but he did not know heads or tails, so I decided it 
was just one of his air-castles. 

Mr. G. — Air-castles, nothing! It's a fact I'm to 
be head of the twenty-five million dollar corpora- 
tion, with five millions of stock all clean velvet. The 
thing is already settled. O, I'm a rich man at last. 

Frank — Mr. Cashton, it would make me very 
happy to see you rich, but I fear this matter is not 
solid. I advise you to go slow until you can see your 
way clear. I have good reasons to believe the scheme 
is a fake. 

Mr. G. — Why, the wealthiest men in the city are 
behind it. There is another famous capitalist at the 
head of the scheme, but his name is being kept 
secret. 

Frank — (Smiling.) Mr. Cashton, you are full of 
a vague idea of millions. That is all. If you are 
determined to go into this combination I withdraw 
my offer of the patents. I'm afraid to chuck them 
into this deal. I tell you with these advantages we 
can get down to business here in our little plant 
and make things happen. We can soon be rich and 
it will be honorable. Now won't you take my ad- 
vice and get all this tommy rot about millions out 
of your dear old head, and continue the business we 
have worked so hard for? 

Mr. G. — O, you are just afraid of such big game. 
Everything is coming out alright. I'm going to de- 
pend on you to stick to me. 

Frank — If you are counting on me you had better 
make your position clear. I will not go into the mat- 
ter. If you are determined to take the step, I give 
you my resignation. 

Mr. G.— FRANK! You don't mean it. 

Frank — I certainly do. If the plans succeed I 
cannot feel that they are honorable. 

29 



Mr. G. — O, yes they are, Frank. When our trust 
is organized, I shall want you to take a position with 
us. 

Frank — I don't know anything but to work, Mr. 
Cashton, but I purpose to work honestly. Therefore 
I decline to abet the scheme you are entering. 

Mr. C. — Think over the matter, my boy. I be- 
lieve you will change your view. Won't you go with 
me to lunch? 

Frank — Thank you, no. I have some work to 
finish, and will write a formal resignation for your 
records. 

Mr. G. — I hate to hear you say that. Try to 
change your mind. (Exit, K.) 

Frank — (Seated at desk.) It has come at last/ A 
man spends his life in an honest purpose, and when 
the goal is within reach, some one tackles him foul. 
And yet all this comes at a time when I can get out 
and make a fortune for Latane. 

"Honor wins. It must be so. 

'To days be long, and nights be dark, 

'Twixt days that come and go ; 

Still, honor wins. It's average is sure, 

He gains the prize who can the most endure ; 

Who faces issues, who never shirks, 

Who waits and watches, and always WORKS." 

And this shall be my text. (Trusty pours some 
alcohol.) I say, Trusty, the alcohol bill for this 
company has been enormous for the past month. 

Trusty — Do you think Miss Latane'll come back? 

Frank — I say the alcohol bill has been large. 

Trusty — Massar Frank, do you see any smut on 
mah fase? 

(CURTAIN.) 



ACT II. 



SCENE — Parlor in Cashton home; evening same 
day. STAGE SETTING: Small table or writing 
desk, L. ; center table with wine and water bottles, 
and six wine glasses, R. Two rockers R. and L. C. 
COSTUMES— Sears in full evening suit; others 
dressed well. 

30 



(Latane seated at desk, head bowed on arms.) 

Mrs. C. — (Entering hurriedly L., newspaper in 
hand.) O, just look here, my little millionairess, 
the papers are full of nice compliments for the man 
who has asked you to be his wife. Don't be sad. 
If such a nice man had proposed to me, I'd be up and 
singing, instead of sitting here grieving as if you 
didn't have a friend in the world. I believe I am 
happier than you are. 

Latane — (Looking up.) I hope you are; for I am 
miserable. 

Mrs. C. — Laying hand on her shoulder.) Come 
come, my dear. Cheer up and be equal to your good 
fortune. You will be happier after you are married. 
You owe it to your dear father to accept Mr. 
Sears' kind offer. Do not fool along with him as 
you would some ordinary man. 

Latane — You speak of marriage as if it were a 
matter of dollars and cents. And I am inclined to 
believe you would have me marry this man just to 
make us all rich. You seem to forget that I met him 
only a few days ago, and that I scarcely know him 
yet. 

Mrs. C. — You know that he is rich, isn't that 
enough ? 

Latane — No, it is not enough. I regard marriage 
as a very serious matter, and have looked forward 
to it all my life; but when I take this step I must 
feel that it is with a man whom I truly love better 
than all others. (Eising.) This way I do not feel 
towards Mr. Sears, and I ask that you do not urge 
the matter on me further. (Exit, L.) 

Mrs. 0. — The unfeeling up-start. She thinks she 
can bring my great plans to naught, but I'll show 
her she can not. I'm determined that all my schem- 
ing to get into high society with her shall not fail. 
I wish I had her chances. I'd accept him so quick 
it would disgust him. This Efforton fellow is in my 
way, and I must get him out. If Philip would join 
me I could close the matter on short notice. There 
he is now. (Advances to door, paper in hand and 
talking excitedly. Enter Mr. C, K.) O, Philip, 
I am dying to see you. (Thrusts paper in his face.) 
Look, look, look. Read it and then you can appre- 
ciate what I have to tell you. 

31 



Mr. G. — (Pushing paper out of his face.) Phew! 
For Heaven's sake, Elizabeth, have you got delirium 
tremens? If the news you have is good in propor- 
tion to your excitement, I prefer that you wait until 
I have a bite of supper. I am tired. (Advances to 
chair) and my head is a whirl. I have good news, 
too. 

Mrs. G. — O, I know. Let me tell. 

Mr. G. — No, no. If you are going to do all the 
talking, I shall surely go to sleep. 

Mrs. G. — (Acridly.) Thanks. 

Mr. G. — You may talk in just a minute. I really 
want to hear what you have to say. 

Mrs. G. — I knew you did. It just fits in with your 
good news. It was this afternoon when he — 

Mr. G. — Did you say supper is ready. 

Mrs. G. — O, please let me finish. 

Mr. G. — No, swing on to it, my dear. If you 
get started there'll be no supper. 

Mrs. G. — It will be ready in a few minutes. Hurry 
and tell me your good news. 

Mr. G. — Well, to begin with, Frank's patents have 
gone through, and — 

Mrs. G. — I do not care to hear about them. 

Mr. G. — But you must. They form the basis of 
the great plan to organize the trust of which I am 
to be president. He has spent his life in that dingy 
old laboratory working out this wonderful process, 
and now when his fortune is secure, he offers them 
to me without a penny in return. 

Mrs. G. — What else could he do? Isn't he your 
employe, and haven't you kept his soul and body 
together these years. 

Mr. G. — Yes, and you must not forget that he has 
helped to keep our souls and bodies together. Be- 
sides, he has built my company up to where it is 
paying me a handsome income, and miany times 
doubled in value. 

Mrs. G. — Philip, you are making the mistake of 
your life. You are bragging on this Efforton fellow 
entirely too much before Latane. Already she re- 
gards him as her ideal. And you know you would 
not want your daughter to marry such a slave to 
his work. Especially when Mr. Sears wants to 
marry her. 

32 



Mr. C. — (Surprised.) What do you mean? MR. 
SEARS? Who is he? Latane thinkin' of marryin' ? 
Mrs. C. — Now don't get excited. I will tell you 
some real live news, if you will let me. 

Mr. 0. — I don't understand, but we will come 
back to that later. You are jumping on poor Frank 
as if he had committed some crime. The idea that 
he has ever thought of marryin' my daughter is 
absurd; for, as you say, he is a perfect slave to his 
work, and thinks of nothing but making our com- 
pany the biggest in the country. 
Mrs. C. — Philip, you are blind. 
Mr. G. — O, they are the best of friends, to be sure, 
but I think you need have no fear as to this honest, 
faithful fellow. What if Latane should marry him ? 
Pile could do worse. 
Mrs. C— Ugh ! I'd rather see her dead. 
Mr. 0. — You are too hard on Frank. And as for 
Latane, I think she can be trusted to make her own 
choice. But we will not discuss this subject. Let 
me tell you about my good luck. Sparr, our new 
superintendent, is a wonderful schemer. He came 
in this morning with a host of gentlemen in silk hats, 
and — 
Mrs. C.—Now you must let me tell that. I— 
Mr. G.—l insist that you let me finish. He in • 
troduced these gentlemen, and they began to talk 
of millions right off the reel. O, I'm rich at last. 
Mrs. C. — I know more about this than you do. 
Mr. C. — If you interrupt me another time, I shall 
leave you and go to bed hungry. The only thing 
I don't like about the proposition is that Frank will 
not go into the thing with me. He has resigned his 
position. I hardly know how I shall do business 
without him. 

Mrs. C. — (Waits short space.) Now, are you 
ready for me to tell you the straight of this affair? 

Mr. C— Yes, Elizabeth, for if you don't talk 
you'll bust. 

Mrs. C. — I see you do not know the cause for 
all this good fortune. In the first place, I am the 
one to be thanked for all that has happened today. 
If there had been no pesky secret inventions, smoky 
laboratories and such abominable stuff, the happen- 
ings of today would have been the same. I cannot 

33 



for the life of me understand why you insist on giv- 
ing Frank Effort on credit for everything that hap- 
pens in your office. 

Mr. G. — Because he makes them happen. 

Mrs. G. — You champion him on every turn, and 
yet you confess that he has resigned rather than aid 
you in this great plan that means wealth and happi- 
ness. For my part, I want no better evidence that 
he is either trying to ruin you, or marry your daugh- 
ter, which is the same thing. Now listen to me. 

Mr. G. — Go on. 

Mrs. G. — I'm going to give you some information. 
Don't be surprised. JULIUS SEARS is the man 
who is behind this great plant to make you rich. He 
is wonderful. He has kept in the background be- 
cause he is afraid you would not understand his mo- 
tive. A few days ago he met Latane down at the 
seashore, and fell desperately in love with her. (Mr. 
C. starts.) O, you needn't get excited. This after- 
noon he asked her to marry him. He said that he 
could not place you at the head of this trust until 
she was engaged to him. Said you might feel that 
he was trying to buy your daughter. 

Mr. G. — That is the way a gentleman would look 
at such a matter. 

Mrs. G. — O, he is a thorough gentleman. And 
Latane refuses him as if she had a dozen millionaires 
to select from, the silly goose, and it is all because 
of this Frank Effort on. You had better get him out 
of the way, or you will regret not having done so. 
Just think of any girl refusing to marry Mr. Sears. 
Old aristocratic family, high social standing, a score 
of millions, and everything that goes to make an 
ideal husband. Why, every girl in the city would 
jump at Latane's chances. It is simply disgusting 
for her to keep the dear man in suspense, and it is 
y our plain duty to tell her so. 

Mr. G. — I don't understand. 

Mrs. G. — You will when I have finished with you. 
(Points to paper.) Look here. Big headlines. 
"Julius Sears, the wizard of the financial world,'" 
and goes on to mention cases he has handled with 
millions of profits for his clients. Now don't you 
think it a wise plan to have your son-in-law take 
hold and manage your business? Only this after- 

34 



noon, when Latane refused him, he came to me, with 
tears in his eyes, and told me how he had hoped to 
go down to your office and ask for her hand, and 
then tell you of this great plan for your happiness. 
Do be sensible, Philip, and do not let your senti- 
ment get the best of your good judgment. Surely 
you feel his powerful hand in the happenings of 
today. And as for these little things of Frank's, O, 
why, they just happened to come up with these im- 
portant matters. That's all. 

Mr. G. — I have followed your argument very 
closely, and am forced to agree with you. He has 
been very kind. I will follow his advice. As for the 
love affair, I wash my hands of that and turn it over 
to you. I have implicit faith in your good judgment, 
and have had ever since you accepted my own offer 
of marriage. 

Mrs. G. — O, that was a small matter. 

Mr. 0. — Indeed! 

Mrs. G. — Let us not get off the subject. What I 
want you to do is to get this fellow Efforton out of 
the way. Let him go, if he wants to. Make him go. 
Mr. Sears says he is a very poor business man any- 
way. If he stays in he will spoil everything. Let 
him go. Make him go, at any price. 

Mr. G. — Do you think Latane loves Mr. Sears ? 

Mrs. G. — O, I am sure of that. And as for Frank, 
well, she just has an old friendly feeling for him. 
Anyway, you said you would turn this matter over 
to me. 

Mr. G. — And so I will. I will have nothing to do 
with it. And I guess I shall let Frank go, though I 
tell you, Elizabeth, I hate to go back on a fellow 
who has done so much for me. (Enter Latane, L.) 

Latane — Dadd} r , you seem worried. Has anything 
gone wrong at the office? 

Mrs. G. — No, Latane. I have been telling him 
about Mr. Sear's proposals, and naturally it makes 
him sad. We have been expecting this and your 
father had hoped you would not refuse him. You'll 
be glad to learn that Mr. Sears is going to take 
charge of your father's business and put it into a big 
trust, giving us $5,000,000 of stock and your father 
the presidency of the big corporation. Already $10,- 
000,000 have been subscribed, and — 

35 



Mr. G. — Frank's inventions — - 

Mrs. G. — Mr. Sears says are not at all important. 

Mr. G. — The entire subscription is based on — 

Mrs. C. — Mr. Sears' ability in such matters. Ah, 
my dear, you will be happy with such a husband. 
Few girls can be as proud as you ought to be. 

Latane — You say daddy is rich. What made his 
company worth so much more in a single day? 

Mr. G — We have these new inventions, and — 

Mrs. G. — Mr. Sears says a trust can be formed. 
But you need not bother your dear little head with 
these matters. Your husband will look after them 
for you. 

Latane — (Seriously, as she strokes Mr. C.'s hair.) 
Daddy, I don't want to marry and leave you. I've 
been so happy all my life. We used to be together 
in the office, and I have watched our little company 
grow up to a big one. I love it, and it seems sacri- 
lege to turn it over to strangers' hands. Let's keep 
it, you, and me, and Frank. (Exit Mr. C, L., dry- 
ing eyes.) 

Mrs. G. — And be paupers always. You see your 
father has too much sense to listen to any such ar- 
gument, (Playing up.) Come, my dear. When you 
are mistress of the Sears' millions, you will laugh 
at the little phosphate company. You know you 
want to be the richest woman in the city. 

Latane — Not at the price of happiness. I do not 
love and trust Mr. Sears. He lacks those qualities 
that appeal to me, and without which he could never 
command my best love. It is my faith that every 
girl should plant her affections in something solid 
so they will grow better and stronger under the com- 
mon needs of everyday life. I tell you once for all, 
measured by this high standard, Mr. Sears is not the 
man I could love, as I must love my husband, be 
he pauper or prince. 

Mrs. G.—O, that is the way all girls feel. The 
deepest, and only true love, comes after marriage. 
Take my word for that, dear. Latane it would break 
your old father's heart if you refuse Mr. Sears. His 
happiness is in your hands. Now, will you see him 
ruined, or will you show your love and make him 
happy. This trust has gone too far for anything 
to save your father, if you do not marry this man. 

36 



I speak plainly, that you may know where you stand. 
(Enter Mrs. C., L.) 

Mr. G. — I have just had a message that Mr. Sears 
is on his way down here. Says he wants to see me, 
but I fancy he wants to see someone else, eh, La- 
tane? (Exit, L.) 

Mrs. G. — The dear fellow. Now, my dear, you 
will have another opportunity to make us all happy. 
Stop and think how much depends on your answer. 
And don't forget that if you refuse him, your father 
is a penniless man. I hear a carriage at the door now. 
I shall leave you alone. It will be so much nicer. 
(Exit, L.) 

Latane — (Seated in C. During these lines or- 
chestra, or piano, play softly DEARIE.) This is 
when a girl needs a mother. One whose heart is 
warm and tender and true. Blood of her blood. 
She says Daddy wants me to marry this man, and 
that if I do not he will be penniless. How can I 
marry him when all I am belongs to another who has 
merited my love and confidence? Indeed, I have 
come to a place where the way does not seem quite 
plain. I love my father and Frank so tenderly and 
truly, that for me to fail either is more than I dare 
contemplate. And yet — I must forsake the one, and 
cleave to the other. Mother in Heaven, which 
shall it be? Show me the way and I will follow 
. . . I seem to hear you say "Frank." And so 
it shall be. (Rises and goes to desk.) Mr. Sears 
shall have his answer. (Writes, reading aloud.) "I 
love another. If ever you truly loved, you'll under- 
stand, Latane." I will leave that here, where he 
will find it. When he reads it he will pity, rather 
than blame me. It will not hurt him, for he does 
not love that way. (Brightening.) And now, when 
Frank has won his place in the world, and asks me 
to be his wife, O, happy thought. (Door opens, R., 
and Frank enters. Latane stands with back turned, 
short space.) 

Frank — Am I not welcome, Latane? 

Latane — (Whirling round and extending both 
hands.) Yes, a thousand times, Frank? I was just 
thinking of you. 

Frank — I can never deserve that nice compliment, 
but each day brings me closer to it. But you seem 

37 



sad. Has someone mussed up your dollhouse ? Come 
tell me all about it. 

Latane — Don't speak that way, Frank. I cannot 
tell you what I would like to. (Enter Mrs. C., ex- 
pecting to see Mr.* Sears. When she sees Frank, 
changes her expression.) 

Mrs. G. — I knew you would want to be first to 
congratulate her. (Frank starts, but quickly re- 
covers.) Latane, Mr. Sears is waiting in the parlor. 
How dare you keep him waiting? 

Latane — I did not know he had come. I will 
go to him. 

Mrs. G. — Mr. Efforton will excuse you, I know. 
(Exit, L.) 

Frank — Do not let me stand between you and 
happiness, Latane. I do not wish to do that. 

Latane — O, Frank, tell me what to do. 

Frank — I'm afraid I'd be a partial counsellor, 
but as I always try to do what you ask me, I will say 
to you as I would to all girls who want to be happy : 
Keep your heart right, and follow it wherever it 
leads you. 

Latane — I will. (Exit, L.) 

Frank — If it were not for my confidence in that 
girl, I would be miserable. (Enter Mr. C, L.) I 
beg your pardon for calling at this hour, Mr. Cash- 
ton, but I have gone into this trust proposition very 
fully, and cannot see anything but failure for you. 
I felt that it was my duty to come and beg you again 
not to go further until you can see the outcome of it. 

Mr. C— Frank, Frank, Frank— 

Frank — I know you cannot believe the truth. I 
come to tell you the thing is a fake, pure and simple. 
Already some of the subscriptions are being with- 
drawn. You are on dangerous ground. Believe me. 
There is time left for you to save yourself. I in- 
serted in the articles of agreement, which you asked 
me to draft, certain clauses which make your ac- 
ceptance contingent on a matter entirely in my con- 
trol. 

Mr. C. — (Frank, I have always found you safe and 
sane, and I have great confidence in your ability. 
But in this instance I disagree with you. 

Frank — On what grounds? 



38 



Mr. (j. — You do not seemi to grasp the full mean- 
ing of this great opportunity. 

Frank— I hope you are right, but I fear the re- 
sults. This telegram is from the Upland Phosphate 
Co., the biggest in the country, offering me the presi- 
dency of that company, and 5,000 shares of their 
treasury stock if I will join them with my inven- 
tions. Now I mention this only to show you that 
we can succeed with our company just as it is. It 
would please me very much to decline this splendid 
offer and stay with you. Won't you let me? 

Mr. C— You go ahead and accept that offer. I'm 
not afraid to stick to the trust, 

Frank— -Unless you accept my offer and withdraw 
from this trust before midnight tonight, you will be 
a penniless man. 

Mr. <?.— (Laughing.) Why, Frank, you are mad. 
You are not fit to talk business. Run along home 
now and get a good night's sleep. 

Frank— Mr. Cashton, are you so blind? 

Mr. C— Don't urge me further. I am determined. 

Frank— Then I have done all I can. There is my 
address. (Hands card.) If you need me let me 
know. 

j\f rs . <7.— (Entering, L.) You are wanted at the 
telephone, Philip. 

Mr. C— That is a call from uptown. I will be 
there sometime. Good night, 

Frank— Good night, and good-bye, sir. (Lxit 

Mrs. G. I'm sorry to see you leave Mr. Oasnton, 

but it is necessary that he get somebody in your 
place who has a better knowledge of high finance. 
Mr. Sears is a wonderful man, and is going to t^ko 
hold now and do what vou have failed to do for Mr. 
Cashton. I know you are glad to see Latane loved 
and admired by such a man. Can you keep a secret t 

Frank — I do not like to do so. 

Mrs. C. — O, yes, you do. Now listen. Latane is 
going to marry Mr/ Sears. (Latane is heard off L., 
singing "DEARIE.") Just listen how she sings 
when she sings to the man she loves. (Enjoys his 
hurt for short space.) Wouldn't YOU like to be 
rich? (Exit, L.) 

Frank — (Listens just a little. Latane's voice 

39 



softens so that he may be heard.) Impossible to be- 
lieve ! My song. The little song she used to sing to 
me, and which she said was mine only. After all 
my honest effort to aid her father and just when I 
could do something worth while, he chooses to with- 
draw from me and plunge with this gang of thieves. 
All because his greed for gold has strangled his 
honor. This is hard enough; but to be compelled 
to sit and listen while Latane sings with such un- 
mistakable depth of feeling for another, the little 
song that has cheered my benighted heart so long, 
is not what I deserve. O, I wish I had listened to 
Miss Spaulding. I'm alone now, and empty hearted 
must be all my efforts. I must go away from here, 
for I'm in the enemy's country without a friend. 
(Exit, R.) (Enter Mrs. C, L.) 

Mrs. C. — I thought he would see he is not wanted 
here. Now it is easy sailing. (Goes to desk.) I'll 
write him a note to stay away. What is this? 
(Reads.) "I love another. If ever you truly loved, 
you'll understand. Latane." Ha, ha. And this was 
her answer to Mr. Sears. The designing wretch. 
I'll see if she can spoil my plans in this way. Mr. 
Efforton shall have this. If I could find an en- 
velope addressed to him in her hand-writing, and it 
will be no trouble, for here are scores of them. 
(Seals letter.) I guess this will turn the tables on 
her. When Frank Efforton gets that, he will accept 
it as final, and not interfere further. (Enter Sears, L. ) 

Sears — Ah, here you are. 

Mrs. C. — Have you come to ask my permission to 
marry her? 

Sears — I thought I had that all the time. No, 
she has refused me again and sent me away. 

Mrs. C. — You must not lose heart. Game that is 
hardest to catch is sweetest, you know. She is play- 
ing for time to see what Efforton is going to do. I 
have about gotten him out of the way, and am play- 
ing my highest trump on him now. This letter I 
found on her desk. It reads, "I love another," and 
such rot as that. It was written for you, but I have 
found an envelope addressed in her hand, to him, 
and so I am sending the sweet little thing to him. 
It has no name, so he will accept it as coming from 
her. O, you men are so stupid. 

40 



Sears — I could take you and steal the United 
States Treasury. 

Mrs. G. — There is one other thing to be done. You 
go to your stationers and have announcements print- 
ed for me tonight. Say the marriage is to be any 
time you wish. Also have the morning papers spread 
the glad tidings. Latane, under all this pressure, 
cannot do anything but fall in line. She just needs 
a little encouragement. 

Sears — I may need your cunning to get me out 
of jail, but I am willing to take a few risks in order 
to get you for my mother-in-law. (To audience.) 
Bah! 

Mrs. G. — (Pouring wine.) Here we will drink 
the health of the NEXT MRS. SEARS. (Offers 
glass.) 

Frank — (Entering hurriedly, R.) Pardon me for 
rushing in, but I must see Mr. Cashton at once. 

Mrs. G. — (Coolly.) Mr. Cashton is not in. 

Frank — Won't you be kind enough to tell me 
where I could reach him by phone? 

Mrs. G. — No. I know nothing about him. Here, 
we are drinking the health of the next Mrs. Sears, 
won't you join us ? (Offers glass, which he takes.) 

Frank — Yes. (Sets glass down and takes up 
empty glass and water bottle.) But not with wine. 
My mother taught me never to associate good women 
with anything that is bad. So I choose (Pours wa- 
ter) the pure, sparkling, crystal nectar that springs 
from the mountain side unrestrained — water. It is 
a more fitting emblem of the purity and chastity 
of Latane and better represents her real necessity 
to man. (Sears sneers.) You miserable cur! If 
3^ou had come out in the open and fought me, you 
would not now be able to laugh at my wretchedness. 
The subterfuges and hellish schemes which you have 
employed shall come back to you and claim their 
reward. And yet, even though every drop in that 
glass represent a tear distilled from the anguish of 
my heart, still, if Latane's happiness is in it, and 
she loves you. I do not ask that the cup shall pass. 
(Raises glass.) I drink it to the bitter dr^s, 

(Curtain.) 



41 



ACT III. 

SCENE — Same as Act I; next morning. 

(Enter Sears and Sparr, laughing, L.) 

Sparr — Let me congratulate you, old chap. I 
have just seen the announcement of your engagement 
to Miss Cashton. 

Sears — Announcement, the devil. That was just 
a scheme of the old woman's to make her say yes. 
But it failed miserably. She is determined not to 
marry me. Now, I say she shall. Her father has 
turned his business over to me entirely, so that it 
is in my power to ruin him. 

Sparr — Julius! You wouldn't do that! 

Sears — I wouldn't? Ha. Within thirty minutes 
he will learn that he is a bankrupt. Old and infirm. 
Not a penny in the world. When he has tasted this 
bitter draft for a few days, the girl will marry me 
to save her father from suffering and want. Why, 
lose? I never lose. 

Sparr — You heartless cur. 

Sears — O, don't feel that way about so small a 
matter. This fellow Efforton, my detectives tell me, 
has been offered the presidency of the Upland Phos- 
phate Company. Now, I latley refused controlling 
stock in that concern, but have wired for an option. 
I mean to get in the saddle down there, and when 
he has tied his inventions up with them, vote him 
out. Yes, I'll put you in. This will reduce him to 
poverty along with the rest, and make it impossible 
for him to marry the girl if he finds she is true to 
him. Today he thinks he is jilted good and proper, 
poor devil, and he is grieving most distressingly. 
Ha, ha, ha, Poor fool. I hate to be mixed up with 
such easy game. 

Sparr — He didn't seem so very easy yesterday 
when you took off your hat to him, did he? 

Sears — O, I did that to save a scene. 

Sparr — You did it to save your head, and it was 
a wise decision. Julius, as long as that fellow is on 
the top side of dirt, he is a match for you or any 
other fellow. And when he learns the truth, he 
won't leave enough of you to be mentioned in the 
press. You had better kill him. 

Sears — Who can I get to do it for me? 
42 



Sparr — Do it yourself. He will probably come 
here to see the old place again this morning. I can 
get him into a difficulty. You stab him. I will swear 
he was jealous and tried to kill you, and that you 
killed him in self-defense. There will be no other 
witnesses. Don't you see? 

Sears — Bah, jove, Robert, you are a better friend 
than I thought. It is desperate, but I'll do it. 

Sparr — Sh-h-h. I hear him coming. Scoot. (Exit 
both, E.) (Enter Trusty, carrying two suit cases 
and followed by Frank, L.) 

Trusty — Massar Frank, yer ain't er goin' ter leave 
us, is yer? 

Frank — 'Yes, Trusty. I have come to this old lab- 
oratory to get my last morning welcome. You see I 
was raised in this room and could not go away with- 
out returning to see it once more. 

Trusty — Yer say you goin' ter leave. Is you 
takin' Miss Latane wid yer? 

Frank— (Silent.) No, Trusty. 

Trusty — Yes, yer is. I'se er runnin' dis business. 

Frank — Miss Latane is going to marry Mr. Sears. 

Trusty — De debil she am. Naw she ain't. Massar 
Frank, I done been wid dat gal eber since she could 
cry, en ef she don't love you, de animal instinct in 
me am dade. 

Frank — You have been a faithful friend, Trusty. 
Won't you stay with me as long as you live? 

Trusty — Yassar, Massar Frank. Thank yer. 

Frank — Go and buy some nice clothes, and meet 
me at the Pennsylvania station at 11 o'clock. 

Trusty — (Picking up suit cases.) You'll find me 
dar wid de grips. II go wid yer, anywhar, ebry 
time. (Exit, L.) 

Frank — Trusty sticks when all others fall. 

Ruth — (Entering, L.) — Oh, Mr. Efforton, have 
you seen the morning papers, and have you heard 
that Mr. Cash ton has lost everything? 

Frank — Yes, Miss Spaulding. I know all. His 
company will not need your services any longer, and 
I wish to express my appreciation of your friendship 
by offering you the position as my private secretary. 
If you care to accept it you may report to me at the 
offices of the Upland Phosphate Co., in Philadel- 



43 



phia, tomorrow at 9. You will find me there at the 
head of that company. 

Ruth — Thank you a thousand times. I'm so glad 
you have saved yourself out of this wreck. 

Frank — I have fallen far short of saving myself, 
my friend, but I mean to fight on just the same. 

Ruth — It is good of you to offer me employmnet, 
which I accept with a heart full of gratitude. I will 
report for duty tomorrow at 9. Good-bye. (Exit, 
L. (Enter Trusty, L.) 

Trusty — Two letters fere yer, Massar Frank. Dey 
cum to de main office by er special messenger, en 
Mr. Sparr said dey wus important. (Lays them on 
desk). En heah is er paper Mr. Sparr said give you. 
Said yer would want to see Miss Latane's marriage 
announcement. (Exit. L.) 

Frank — Marriage announcement! Then it is 
true. But yesterday I lived in the security of her 
love and could not believe her faithless. And today ! 
With one fell swoop this licenscious hawk has de- 
scended into my happy little dream, clutched his 
vicious talons deep into the tender heart of this 
little bird of mine, and is now flying away to his 
guilded castle to devour her. And so it has always 
been with me. When I would reach out my hand 
and lav hold on happiness it has moved just a little 
further on. Until at last, like a child chasing a rain- 
bow, I find that life, for me. is empty after all. 
(Picks up letters.) Letters. Yes, here is the mar- 
riage announcement. This is how thev punish me. 
(Opens and reads.) Mr. and Mrs. Philip P. Cash- 
ton announce the engagement — ENGAGEMENT! 
then they are not married. There is time enough yet. 
I will fly to her and declare my love. I know she will 
not denv me. No, what thought is that? She has 
promised to marry, and I regard a woman's promise 
to marry second only to the marriage vow itself. 
The man who seeks to alienate her affections is less 
worthy of them. Unless I know her heart is as free- 
as the birds that tripple in the air I shall never say : 
"I love you." (Sees Latane's handwriting.) A let- 
ter from La tan e. (Hastily onens it.) Little girl, 
forgive me for doubting you. I ought to have known 
you could not be false. (Reads.) "I love another. 
If ever you truly loved, you will understand. La- 

44 



tane." (Crushes letter in hand.) Latane has said 
it, and that is final. She won't care to hear from me, 
but I will write good-bye, and leave it here where 
I learned to love her. "Good-bye, Latane." (Bows 
head on arms few seconds, rising and looking about 
walls of room.) Dear old lab ! The time has come 
when I must leave you. Always through my life I 
shall look back to this spot of earth with a tender 
feeling akin to filial love. Your four walls have been 
my little world. You have seen the struggle and 
know what great happiness has come to me here 
when her sweet face made your dingy walls glow 
with the warmth and sweetness of her love and sym- 
pathy. You have given shelter to many a sweet day 
dream of a home in which she— (Haltingly advances 
towards bottles.) Dear old bottles! I know every 
one of you by the touch. You are my only friends 
left. Won't you comfort me with some deadly drug 
that will let my soul float way out yonder somewhere, 
free from this disappointment? You will at least 
bring oblivion. (Pours poison.) I'll drink deep, 
and here, where it was begun, end the life I hate so 
fervently. (Starts to lips.) What! Avison! Be- 
tween me and that glass I see my dear old mother's 
face. She is standing with hand uplifted, saymg: 
"My son, don't." Beside her stands Latane saying: 
"Frank, don't." The one is dead, and the other has 
forsaken me, but once these two good women con- 
trolled my every thought and purpose. (Firmly.) 
And so it shall be always. (Smashes glass on floor.) 
I'll be a man, so that when I'm dead no man can 
sav of me, he debauched the life his mother gave him, 
and which he gave to Latane. (Starts to go and 
meets Sparr.) 

Sparr — Did you get that paper I sent you? 
Frank— Robert Sparr, if it were not for having 
such blood on my hands I'd kill you where you stand. 
(Sears slips up behind, dagger drawn, or showing.) 
Sparr — Now, that might not be so easy as you 
think. You should not be angry with me just be- 
cause your girl has turned out to be an ordinary flirt. 
Frank — (Advancing savagely) — You cur! 
(Knocks him down, and whirls drawing gun on 
Sears, who is advancing with dagger drawn. Stop ! 
Coward ! I do not want to widow Latane's heart. 



45 



Go and be good to her. (Exit L.) (Examines 
Sparr.) Sparr, are you hurt? Can you walk? 

Sparr — I, I, I think so. 

Frank — Then get out of here. (Sparr sneaks out, 
L.) (Enter Tommy, L.) 

Tommy — Hully Gee! Mr. Frank, you must er 
done sumpin' to dat guy ! I heard him say jest er- 
while ago dat he wus boss here now, but hanged ef 
I don't believe you are still boss. 

Frank — I'm just straightening up my records, 
Tommy, preparatory to leaving. 

Tommy — Slay, Mr. Frank, there's er big guy in 
the main office said he wanted ter see you. 

Frank — Who is he? 

Tommy — Said he was from the Upland Phosphate 
Co. 

Frank — Show him down here. 

Tommy — (Looking out door, L.) Here he comes 
now. (Exit Tommy, L.) Enter Mr. Gilbert, L.) 

Mr. Gilbert — I am looking for Mr. Effort on, 
please. 

Frank — I am he. 

Mr. Gilbert — (Extending hand cordially.) I am 
Mr. Gilbert, chairman of the board of directors of 
the Upland Phosphate Co. 

Frank — (Affably). I'm glad to know you, Mr. 
Gilbert. 

Mr. Gilbert — The pleasure is mutual, I assure 
you. I came down to inform you that we were glad 
to get your telegram of last night, accepting our 
offer. The board was in session when your message 
came, and you were immediately, and without oppo- 
sition, elected president of the company, and will 
receive 5,000 shares of our treasury stock whenever 
you are ready to sign it. This stock we give you in 
lieu of your inventions, and good business judgment, 
and consider ourselves fortunate indeed. 

Frank — If this honor had come to me from a lesser 
source, and by a more ordinary man, I'm sure I could 
better express my appreciation. I can only say, sir, 
I thank you, and promise the company an honest 
endeavor. 

Mr. Gilbert — Of that we feel assured. You may 
be glad to know also that provision was made for 
your three months 5 leave of absence, as you requested. 

46 



Frank — I'm glad of that. I am leaving this work 
very tired and exhausted, and need rest. I shall run 
over tomorrow and meet your board. 

Mr. Gilbert — I hope you will. (Enter Sears, L.) 

Sears — Ah, er, this is Mr. Gilbert ? 

Mr. Gilbert — It is. Oh, yes, this is Mr. Sears. I 
got your message, but cannot offer you that stock. 
It now belongs to Mr. Efforton, the president of our 
company. And as it represents the balance of power 
in our directorate, I doubt whether he wishes to 
sell it. 

Sears— (To Frank.) Would you sell it? (Frank 
looks him straight in the eye, without saying a word, 
until he exits, L.) 

Frank — (Pleasantly.) He didn't give me time to 
decide. 

Mr. Gilbert — That fellow is the biggest crook in 
New York. Won't you lunch with me today, Mr. 
Efforton? 

Frank — Thank you, yes. But I will be very busy 
until that time, and may be late. 

Mr. Gilbert — I will gladly wait for you at Del- 
monico's. 

Frank — All right, thank you. 

Mr. Gilbert — Until then, good luck (Going.) 

Frank — (Going to door with him.) After then, 
more good luck. (Exit Mr. Gilbert, L. Enter 
Trustry, K., dressed up dandy. Sets down suit cases.) 

Trusty — Say, Massar Frank, am dis O. K. ? 

Frank — Yes, you pass inspection very creditably. 
But, I say, Trusty, that looks like my coat. 

Trusty — He, he, he. I thought you'd recognize it. 
I thought I'd cum by en go down wid yer. 

Frank — I'm glad you did, for I've changed my 
plans. 

Trusty — Ain't yer goin' ter take me wid yer ? 

Frank — Oh, yes, but not today. I will return to- 
morrow and we will sail for foreign lands, where I 
hope to forget everything. 

Trusty — (Sympathetically.) Yassar, I knows, 
Massar Frank. 

Frank — Take those suit cases to my room. I will 
come for you when we are ready to go. 

Trusty — Don't fergit de ole nigger, now. (Exit 
R.) 

47 



Frank — (During these lines orchestra plays 
"Dearie" softly.) The poor old negro's sympathy is 
about all I have in the world. He knows my heart 
is crushed, and would comfort me if he could. With 
all my success I am wretched and lonely. It is void 
of any pleasure, since I am denied laying it all at 
Latane's feet and hearing her sweet commendation. 
(Looking about walls.) Farewell, old friend. I 
pray that you do not forget the boy you have raised 
so faithfully. I am driven from you into a gloomy 
world to fight the great battle of forgetting happier 
days, and empty hearted must be all my efforts. The 
days will be long and tedious. And what of the 
nights that follow them ? Will I ever sleep without 
roaming in dreamland with her by my side? And if 
she is the queen of my dreams, shall I go mad when I 
awake to find it all a bitter lie ! 

(SLOW CURTAIN.) 



ACT IV. 



SCENE — Poverty-stricken home of Philip Cash- 
ton, two months later. 

STAGE SETTING— Doors R., L. and C. Large 
rocker or invalid's chair, right. Small table left 
center, with revolver on it. Piano, left, photograph 
on it. Lights low. 

(Sears, outside door, C, knocks twice, then enters, 
dressed in Prince Albert, light trousers, sik hat and 
swinging cane carelessly.) What! No one at home 
this evening ? I expected to find the old man in bed. 
My detectives informed me that he was very ill. 
(Looking R.) Ah, there they are, down there in that 
dingy old kitchen, eating by an old lamp that is 
smoking her pretty eyes out. And the menu, I hope, 
consists of bread and water. Surely I have reduced 
them to the point where she will accept me, in order 
to save her father from this suffering and want. Ha, 
ha. The old woman was right when she said: 
"Game that is hardest to catch is sweetest, you 
know."' She played her part well, and I wish she 
had not deserted them when the ship went down. I 
need her infamous cunning more tonight than ever, 

48 



for Frank Efforton damn him — has learned the 

truth, and is at this minute crossing the ocean as fast 
as team can bring him. But when he gets here he 
will find her gone. If not willingly — then otherwise. 
(Looks R.) Ah, they are coming here. (Draws L. 
Enter Mr. C, R., walking feebly, and supported by 
Latane. He sits in chair, supported by pillows.) 

Latane — (Begins talking as they enter, and is 
cheerful.) Oh, you can walk lots better, and I can 
tell you are stronger, too. You must not worry. Just 
sit here and rest. I will run and wash the dishes and 
come back to you as soon as I can. Exit, R.) 

Mr. C. — Poor girl! Poor girl! (Sears quickly 
steps outside door, C, and knocks. Re-enters on Mr. 
C.'s "Come.") 

Sears — Why good evening, Mr. Cashton. I ex- 
pected to find you in bed. 

Mr. tf.— (Turning.) YOU! 

Sears — Am I not welcome ? I heard you were very 
ill, and despondent as well, and thought I would stop 
by and see if there were not something I might do 
for you. 

Mr. G. — There is. Leave my house and never re- 
turn. 

Sears — Would you treat my kind offer that way ? 

Mr. G. — If I were physically able I'd treat you 
much worse. 

Sears — I would not have you believe I am taking 
advantage of your condition, but I insist that you 
hear me. I'm truly sorry to see you in this misery 
and want, and I propose to take you out of it and 
place you in ease and luxury. Why should you suf- 
fer this wretchedness and subject your daughter to 
a slave's lot, when just one word to her in my favor — 

Mr. G. — (With feeling.) You scoundrel! You 
have robbed me of all I had in the world, except my 
daughter and her love. You have changed my happy 
home to a hovel of regrets, and now you wish to 
despoil what is left. Oh! for strength to strangle 
you! 

Sears-- (With, a sneer.) But you haven't got it, 
and I will give you just one minute to go and tell her 
she must marry me. Go ! You can walk if you try. 

Mr. G. — (Rises and thinks) Will you be good to 
her? (Going towards table.) 

49 



Sears — That is my business. Here she is, down 
this way — (Mr. C. snatches up revolver.) 

Mr. G. — And down there she stays ! Now, I ought 
to kill you, and would, if I did not feel that it would 
be such a disgrace to me. 

Sears— (Frightened.) ME. CASHTON! DON'T 
I beg you. 

Mr. G — If you will promise never to trouble us 
again I will spare you. 

Sears — On my honor, I swear it. 

Mr. G. — Then go, and keep that oath inviolate. 

Sears — (Aside.) I will return with some help. 
(Exit, C. Mr. C. Lays revolver back on table and 
totters back to chair and falls into it. Enter Latane, 
R. 

Latane — Now I am through and can chat with 
you. Is there anything I can do to make you more 
comfortable ? 

Mr. G. — Yes, my faithful girl, tell me you do not 
hate me for bringing you down to this. 

Latane — There, there, now, Daddy. You know 
these misfortunes have made me love you more. I'm 
not complaining. I'm glad of the opportunity to 
show how much I do love you. 

Mr. G. — I wish I could reward you for it. 

Latane — You can. Just be cheerful and forget. 

Mr. G. — The mountains of regret in my heart will 
never permit me to be cheerful, but the doctor told 
me this afternoon I should soon forget. 

Latane — (Sadly.) Daddy, when you are gone who 
will I have left? (Silence, then brightening.) Here, 
here, here, we are getting sad again, and it will spoil 
our evening. Let me scatter these old blues with 
music. (Groing to piano.) What shall it be? 

Mr. G. — A song. The first one you learned when 
you were a little girl and happy. I think I would 
enjoy it. 

Latane — All right. (Sings "Daddy," by Behrend. 
NOTE — This song is very effective and should be 
sung with feeling. At conclusion Mr. C rises and 
crosses to Latane, placing hands on shoulders.) 

Mr. G. — Good night, my darling. I'm going to 
bed now, and if you don't mind sing Frank's song* 
And if ever you see him again, tell him I loved him 
next to you. (Places photograph in front of her.) 

50 



Sing to him as you do every night. I have a strange 
presentment that some time he will come for you. 
(Goes K. and exits. As he goes, slowly, she sings 
softly the last words of "Daddy," beginning at first 
"Daddy, good night," and finishes song. Then ad- 
dresses picture.) 

Latane — Before I sing your song, Frank, I want 
to talk to you just a little. I believe it will help to 
fill the great void in my heart. I'm thinking of that 
day long ago when you and I were working in the 
dear old laboratory and were so happy. You begged 
me to leave you while you tried a dangerous experi- 
ment. I stayed with you. The explosion came and I 
was hurt. Daddy said : "Run for a doctor, Frank, 
she is dying." You darted to the door, then came 
back and placed your trembling lips close to my ear 
and whispered: "I love you." That is the only 
time you ever put it in words, Frank, but you lived 
it every day. I'm so hungry to hear you say it 
again. You seem nearer and dearer to me tonight 
than ever before. Come back to me, Frank, and "say 
you understand." Starts music to "DEARIE." 
(Knock on door, C. Who is it? 

Ruth — (Entering.) A booger-man. 

Latane — (Kissing her.) Oh, I'm so glad to see you. 

Ruth — I wanted to come back sooner, but I was 
prevented. 

Latane — You have been so good and kind to us. 

Ruth — Dear heart, it has not been done through 
any sense of duty. It is because I love you. I want 
to do more. (Starts to open purse. Latane pre- 
vents her.) 

Latane — Not another penny, Ruth. I have taken 
too much already. 

Ruth — I can spare it, Latane, and you need it. 
Please do not refuse it. 

Latane — I cannot hope to repay you and it would 
add to my suffering to take what you may need. Just 
love me, Ruth. That is all I need. I am working 
now and earn enough to supply our needs. 

Ruth — If you knew this money did not come out 
of my savings would you take it? 

Latane — Ruth, do you mean I am an object of 
charity ? 

Ruth— -Yes, but it is sweet ch&rity. 

51 



Latane — What do you mean by that? 

Ruth — I promised not to tell, but I feel justified 
in breaking that promise. Soon after your father's 
misfortune a good and noble man gave me several 
signed checks and instructed me to fill in the amounts 
necessary to give your father every comfort and 
attention, but exacted my promise that he should 
not know who sent it. The bank account this check 
is drawn on is quite able to stand it, and I know the 
generous giver wants you to have it. One of these 
checks I offer you again. (Offers check.) Won't 
you take it, dear? 

Latane — May I know, first, who my benefactor is? 

Ruth — His name is on that check. 

Latane — ( Reads. ) FRANK EFFERTON ! 
(Turns corner of piano and weeps.) 

Ruth — (Arms about her.) Keep it, dear. It would 
kill him if he knew you were in this distress. 

LaJane — Do you think so ? 

Ruth — I know it. 

Latane — Then I will keep it. Please thank him 
for me. Or give me his address and I will thank 
him myself. 

Ruth — Address him in care of the ocean. 

Latane — I don't understand. 

Ruth — I could not stand to see him deceived and 
wrote him you still loved him. Did I do wrong? 

Latane — It is never wrong to tell the truth. What 
did he answer back. 

Ruth — Here's the cable. (Gives message.) 

Latane — (Reads.) "Take care of them till I come. 
Ann sailing tonight." Oh, God, speed that ship! 
(To Ruth.) Can't you hear my heart singing? 
Daddy said he would come. Go to his room and tell 
him while I send my soul out to meet Frank on the 
ocean. (Exit Ruth, R. Latane starts music, as if to 
sing "Dearie." (Enter Sears.) 

Sears — I hope I do not intrude, Miss Cashton. 

Latane— (Turning quickly.) MR, SEARS. 

Sears — You don't seem very glad to see me. 

Latane — I think you have made us suffer enough. 

Sears — I'm not here to punish you. I come to you 
to lay at your feet my great fortune. With it you 
can make your father comfortable and happy and 
restore to him his health. You should not make him 

5*2 



suffer when by marrying me you could so easily pre- 
vent it. Come, do your duty. 

Latane — You say for me to do my duty. Do you 
mean it? 

Sears — It would make me very happy, indeed. 

Latane — Then listen. Once I asked the best friend 
I ever had to advise me. This is what he said: 
"Keep your heart right, and follow it, wherever it 
leads you." To keep this advice has led me through 
the shadows, but I'm happy to say to you who have 
tried so hard to mislead me, it has also led me out 
into the sunshine again. And I feel it my duty to 
say to you, the path to heaven is no straighter than 
my heart leads me to Frank Efforton. (Points to 
door.) Now please be kind enough to go. 

Sears — (Savagely.) You shall go with me, and it 
would have been better for you to have gone with 
less persuasion. (Throws scarf over mouth and is 
trying to tie it when Ruth enters, L., and sees him. 
She slips hurriedly to table and taking revolver, lev- 
els it on him.) 

Ruth — STOP! Or my heart will work its pent- 
up vengeance! (Enter Trusty, C.) 

Trusty — Let her wuk, Miss Spauldin'. (Throws 
his gun on him.) I'll hole him still, fur you. 

Latane — Oh, it's Trusty. 

Trusty — Don't monkey wid me now, honey, I'se 
got bofe hands full. Massar Frank had to take two 
fellers what wus goin' ter help dis hyena up to de 
police station. He tole me ter hole things down ontil 
he got back. En when he gits heah en sees what I 
got dar'l be somepin' doin', I bound yer. 

Sears — I'll give you a thousand dollars to let me 
go before he comes. 

Trusty — (Shaking gun at him and laughing.) Er 
cose you would. Er cose you would. But dar ain't 
nuffin' doin' — ontil Massar Frank gits heah. (Enter 
Frank, C.) Sears turns back to him. 

Latane — (Rushes into his arms.) 

Trusty— (To Sears, taking him by the arm.) 
Here, I want you to see dat. 

Frank — Little girl, love's sunshine is sweetest to 
the heart of shadows. (Approaching Sears.) Sir. 
I am too happy tonight to deal with you as I should. 

Sears— (Meekly.) Mr. Efforton, I beg that you 

53 



let me go. If you will I promise to return to Mr. 
Cashton his company. 

Frank — It is not yours to return. My attorneys 
advise me that not only the company, but liberal 
damages as well, will be awarded him tomorrow. 
You have done your worst. Now go. 

Trusty — Massar Frank, let me give 'm jest one 
little kick. 

Frank — (Smiling.) Will you stop at one? 

Trusty — Er, er, yassar — 'after I practices er little 
bit. 

Sears — There'll be another day. 

•Trusty— Yep, but hit's NIGHTTIME now. 
'Bout, FACE! FORWARD! En when yer gits 
three paces outen de doah, halt, en squat 'bout five 
inches, so'se I kin git good action on yer. MARCH ! 
(Trusty marches him out, C.) 

Frank — He has been the only sunshine I have had 
for two weary months. (Sees Ruth.) Why, Miss 
Spaulding ! (Offers hand.) I'm glad of this oppor- 
tunity to thank you for your faithful watch. 

Ruth — It has been a great pleasure. (Enter Mr. 
C, L.) 

Mr. C. — Frank, my boy, forgive me. 

Frank — (Rushing to him.) I have nothing to 
forgive you, Mr. Cashton. The past is behind us. 
My face is set to the future. I'm beginning life over 
again, and as at first, by begging you. I love your 
daughter, sir, and ask that you let me prove it. 

Mr. C. — /Frank, she is all I've got in the world, 
but I give her to you freely, because I know you 
have won her. (Takes Latane's hand.) My faithful 
girl. (Takes Frank's hand.) My dutiful boy. (Joins 
them.) This is the happiest moment of my life. Lifts 
eyes.) Richest blessings be ever upon you and keep 
you as happy always as I am now. 

Trusty— (Sticking head in door, C.) AMEN! 

(CURTAIN.) 

END. 



54 



Better Than Gold 



By 

Oliver P. Parker 



Copyrighted, 1914 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

THE CARPENTERS: 

HOWARD, SR. — Wealthy gold miner. 
ELIZABETH— His wife. 
HOWARD — His philanthropic son. 
ROBERT WOOLSEY — His step-son. 
KLINK— Butler. 
GRINS — Howard's valet. 

THE KINGSLEYS: 

ANDREW — Wealthy gold miner. 

MARGUERITE — His designing wife. 

ALICE — Their daughter. 

McKLUSKY — Butler. 

PRINCE BAVARI — "Of the Hapsburgs." 

MISS ROBINSON — Howard's secretary. 

NELL TOONE— Mountain girl. 

AUNT LAURA — Mammy. 

BILL SINGLETON— Mountaineer. 

ALSO: 

DR. BASSETT. 

DR. SPEIGHT. 

DR. MAYBEN. 

DR. KING. 

HEAD NURSE. 
NOTE — The above cast may be doubled as follows: 
Prince and Bill Singleton and any doctor; Alice and Nell; 
Andrew Kingsley and any doctor; Mrs. Kingsley and Nell 
and Mrs. Carpenter, or Miss Robinson or Head Nurse; 
Klink and McKlusky. It is often the case that better 
productions may be had by these doubles. 
Time — Two hours. 



Better Than Gold 



ACT I. 

SCENE — Parlor; Home of Andrew Kingsley; 
evening. 

STAGE SETTING— Doors or portieres R. and L. 
Library table F. C. Two rockers, R. and L. of table 
and half back. Settee L. and to rear. Such wall and 
other decorations as are convenient to give scene ap- 
pearance of wealth. 

COSTUMES AND MAKE-UP— Prince, full 
evening dress ; hair brushed straight back and bris- 
tling; black mustache, turned up sharply at corners 
of mouth with chin penciled to imitate goatee; 
gloves, hat and cane are not necessary, but can use 
monocle to good effect. This character should be 
good at imitating a foreigner's manner of speech. 

Mrs. Kingsley — Full evening dress, a woman of 
fifty, full of designs and Avilling to sacrifice her 
daughter to society. 

Mr. Kingsley — Full evening dress ; a man of sixty, 
prosperous and wealthy, and in sympathy with his 
wife's designs. 

Robert — Flashy street suit; a young fellow with- 
out a purpose, but ample plans of his own. 

McKlusky — Butler's suit; long, wide sideburns; 
should always stand at attention with chin high. 

Mr. Carpenter — Prince Albert ; a man of sixty and 
much gold; has good intentions but they are neg- 
lected because of his greed for more gold. 

Howard — Elegant but modest business suit; a 
young man of twenty-two; make-up natural; man- 
ner unassuming but firm ; has a purpose in life above 
hoarding of gold and subordinates everything, ex- 
cept his love of Alice, to this purpose. 

Alice — Full evening dress, with display of jewels; 
sympathetic with Howard's view and loves him. 

(McClusky enters, L., and stands at attention, 
chin high. Prince follows quickly, large bunch of 
violets in hand, crossing to center and looking 
around. ) 

Prince — Vot? Iss she not here to grdreet me? 
Vy? 



McKlusky — (Waiving him to chair.) Pray be 
seated, sir. (Going.) I will inform Mees Kingsley 
that you have come. (Stops and faces audience.) I 
am sure she will be sorry, sir. (Starts, L.) 

Prince — Vot ? You inzuldt me ! Vot ? 

McKlusky — Indeed, no, sir. I say she will be 
sorry she was not here to grdrdreeet you. (Leaves, 
L., quickly.) 

Prince — Ah, ha! I dakes inzuldts, any dings, 
schoost so I dakes de sveet Amerdrican Beauuty Rose 
mit all her millions. Ha, ha, hahe ! Me leetle Prin- 
zess, you can keep me vait now vile you are so beau- 
u-tivol, und vile your pappa has so great big heaps 
ov GOOLD, mit big bright diamonds stuck in de 
tops ov him ; but ven you have mardried me, und I 
hav se money pags, veil, den you vill not be so very 
very beau-utivol, und I vill not love you so awful 
mudch. I vill led you cum pack to your dear Amerdri- 
ca und marry dees Carpenter chump — vile I dakes me 
dear Vilhelmina und sphends de Amerdrican goold 
in me villa in Southern Italy. Ah ! It iss se sveet 
dream ov me life, und aldready I can taste de svete- 
ness uf it all. Und schoost dink it iss so easy. . 
But vot ef she dell me dat she do not luf me ? Vot ef 
she say again dat she lubs dis Carpenter fellow? 
Subbose I fail in dees gdreat blan ? Vot den ? Veil, 
vot den? Ef I haf to I vill make such a pig noise 
vot dees house never saw pefore — und maybe her 
pappa vill pay me apout ONE HUNDRED 
TOUSAND TALLERS to shuttup. Ah, it iss easy. 
(Advances to front of stage.) Vy should Europe 
vorry, ven Amerdrican pappas has blenty goold, und 
schoost von daughter ter sphend it on. (Enter Alice, 
L.) Ah, me lettle Prinzess (Going to her, offers vio- 
lets. As she takes them, bows low over her hand 
and kisses it. Vy do you keep me vait ? Vy did you 
not meet me? Ven YOU show me neglect me heart 
keels me. 

Alice — Prince Bavari, do not feel that way. I was 
not expecting you so soon. 

Prince — Sudch sveet apologies. I forgive you mat 
all my poor heart und quvite forget de loneliness uv 
a few moments ago, ven I thought me leetle prinzess 
did not care. You do care, don't you, me darling? 
(Advances.) Oh, assure me mit schoost von sveet 

4 



kees from dose heavenly lips und den I cannot doubt 
you. (Attempts to kiss her. Alice breaks away, 
laughing nervously.) 

Alice — Not yet, Prince Bavari. If you are in- 
clined to doubt me, a kiss would make you doubt me 
more. 

Prince — Vy do you keep me vait Do 1 deserve 
such punishment at your deir hands'' Svcetheart, 
say you luf me. Lay your golden (or nut brown) 
head on my aching heardt, und led it zing you to 
schleep. 

Alice — I'm not sleepy, Prince, and until I am my 
head does not need resting *nj where. (Sits on set- 
tee.) 

Prince — (Standing close by ) Den you do not 
luf me? 

Alice — I'm afraid I do not. 

Prince — Oh, cruel, cruel words. De pierce my 
yearning heardt like one poisoned ardrow. Vy did 
you not dell me pefore I gave you my heardt und 
life; und vile I could still luf someone else? 

Alice — Prince Bavari, I have never encouraged 
you to believe that I loved you ; but I'm sorry, very 
sorry indeed, if you really care in such a way as to 
hurt. Can't you forgive me? 

Prince — Oh, leetle Drosebud, do not keel me. Dell 
me you are zhoking. I know you will not be plind to 
ee grdreat sacrifice I have make for you. I come 
across se barriers of se Orinetal Courts mit se richest 
royalest blood in me veins — ignoring queens und se 
heardt of tousands Amerdrican beauties mit dey 
millions (kneeling) to you as se von voman in all se 
world who can make nue truly happy. Led me blace 
you at se head of me royal household und see you 
admired by EMPERORS and KINGS. Say you 
luf me. Cool me parching lips mit schoost von sveet 
kees. 

Alice — (Staying him with her hand and rising.) 
I'm sorry but I cannot give you any such assurance. 
(Crosses to C.) A kiss is too sweet a thing to be 
squandered. 

Prince — Skevandered ? Yos iss skevandered ? 

Alice — (Laughing.) Well, first let me tell you 
what a kiss is. Love plants it in the souls of babes 
. . . Nature transplants it to the garden of girl- 

5 



hood. . . Devotion calls it to the trembling lips 
of woman. When it is crushed by its soul-mate and 
robbed of the sweetness it contains it becomes a kiss. 

Prince — Don't keep me vait. I know what a kees 
is. I haf had a tousand. 

Alice — Then you have had a plenty. 

Prince — Dere iss no blenty undil yours are all 
gone. (Attempts to kiss her.) 

Alice — If I should kiss you I suppose you would 
call it one among a thousand. 

Prince — No, no. It would be a good start on an- 
other thousand. 

Alice — I grant you that it would, and we will 
leave the subject. How long do you remain in the 
states ? 

Prince — Undil you have keesed me. 

Alice — Then I advise that you buy a farm and 
learn agriculture. 

Prince — I am not accustomed to being humiliated. 

Alice — That was a compliment, Prince. 

Prince — Inzults upon inzults! You shall kees 
me. Me brain is awhirl. Me blood scorches me 
veins. I vill not be denied. (Seizes her firmly.) 
Gif me dot kees or I die. 

Alice— STOP! 

Prince — No, no. I cannot stop undil you have 
keesed me. 

Alice — Stop, I say, or I'll scream for aid. 

(Enter Howard, R.) 

Howard — (Seizes him in collar and roughly jerks 
him back.) You puppet! How dare you! Explain 
this ruffian conduct to me or I will break every bone 
in you. SPEAK. 

Prince — (Bristling.) Py vot autority you cum 
here where you not wanted to interfere mit OUR 
happiness ? 

Howard — By the sovereign authority of a gentle- 
man to go where he pleases to protect American wo- 
manhood from the pollution of such touch as yours. 
(Prince starts as for a gun and Howard squares him- 
self to knock him down. Alice springs before How- 
ard, pushing him back. 

Alice— HOWARD ! You forget he is Prince Ba- 
vari, and my guest. 



Prince — Yez ! Und I vill hear your apologies. 

Howard — If I have intruded, Alice, I numbly beg 
pardon. I came here because I imust see father at 
once. They told me at the club that he came here. 
If he is not here, your father will do. 

Alice — I have not seen Mr. Carpenter, but father 
is here. I will tell him you have come. (Exit, L.) 

Prince — (Who has been on L., front, twisting 
mustache, turns suddenly and misses Alice. Starts 
out after her. 

Prince — Yez. VE vill tell him you haf cum. Und 
leave se pig American bully in zis nice pig droom 
all py heself. Hahahahaha. (Going.) 

Howard — Just a minute, Prince. I wish to speak 
to you. 

Prince — (Eyeing him closely with monocle.) Of 
course you would. A great many people want that 
honor, but I vil see YOU later, ven ladies are not 
about. (Going.) 

Howard — You will see me now. (Prince turns 
and advances towards Howard.) I am conscious, 
sir, of the disrespect to the place we are in, but I am 
much more sensible of the insult you have given me. 
Now, I ami Howard Carpenter — & plain American 
gentlemen — and I presume you are Prince Bavari, 
of the Austrian nobility. Am I correct? 

Prince — (Folding his arms.) As to MY identity, 
you are quvite veil informed. 

Howard — I am willing that you should ignore 
what I say concerning myself. It does not matter. 
But I wish to say to you that I regret the unpleasant- 
ness of a few moments ago, AS WELL AS THE 
CAUSE FOR IT; and before I leave you under this 
roof with Miss Kingsley, Prince or Peasant, I exact 
your promise that it shall not occur again. What 
have you to say ? 

Prince — (Drawing himself up.) Simbly dees, ef 
you dhrive me to tell you, though I did not want to 
hurt you, Mees KINGSLEY ISS MY AFFI- 
ANCED BRIDE. 

Howard — (Starting suddenly.) NO! 

Prince — Ha, ha, ha, YEZ. (Enjoys Howard's suf- 
fering.) Und ef you are an Amerdrican gentleman, 
as you are so fond of boasting you are, you vill not 
intrude yourself further into our happiness. 

7 



Howard — (Slowly offering hand.) Prince Bavari, 
I offer you my sincerest apologies, and, and — con- 
gratulations. Be good to her, sir, or I swear there 
are not swords enough in your royal guard to pre- 
vent me from strangling you. 

Prince — Meester Carpenter, you are von noble fel- 
low. Good night. (Exit, L.) 

Howard — (Bewildered. ) How strange this is! I 
wonder if it's true that Alice Kingsley — my life- 
long friend and sympathizer, whom I love as dearly 
as my strength will let me — could find it in her heart 
to hurt me like this ! Could such as she accept my 
love and adoration for so long, then when it is im- 
possible for me to forget her, ignore my rightful 
claim in this manner? Indeed, I wonder if I have 
come to the end of the golden thread she has woven 
and interwoven in the fabric of my life almost since 
it was strung on the loom of Time. (Brightening.) 
Why, no — there is a mistake, and I shall soon know 
that I was a coward to doubt her. (Enter Mr. Kings- 
ley,L.) 

Mr. Kingsley — Why, good evening, Howard. (Of- 
fers hand.) 

Howard^Qoodi evening, Mr. Kingsley. 

Mr. K. — Glad to see you. (Waves him to chair.) 

Howard — I'm sorry it is necessary for me to pro- 
long your business hours, for I know you are tired 
and need rest, but I have exhausted every means to 
find father and failed. 

Prince — Oh, lettle Drosebud, do not keel me. Dell 

Mr. K. — Apologies are out of order, Howard. I 
am always ready to talk business. What is it? 

Howard — I have just returned from Georgia and 
have some news for you and father which I feel sure 
will tickle your old, greedy fingers. 

Mr. K. — There you go again, preaching against 
GREED. Your father and I make lots of money, 
and I tell you, boy, it is mighty nice to have more 
Ihnn anybody. 

Howard — Yes, money is a great power, indeed. 
I have never had as much as I wanted, or as much 
as I needed, but if I can drive a good bargain with 
you and father I shall soon have a great deal. 

Mr. K. — That sounds good, Howard. I'm surely 
glad to see you turning your mind towards more im- 

8 



portant matters. I know your father will be glad, 
for he has always wanted you to give up your work 
amongst the poor and prepare yourself to take 
charge of the vast fortune you will inherit from him. 

Howard — Mr. Kingsley, it would be impossible for 
me to give up the work I have started. I find happi- 
ness and contentment in it, and the further I go, the 
more certain I am that I can never do anything else. 
I have no plans for the future which do not include 
a greater effort in this direction. 

Mr. K. — Howard, you could make a world of 
money if you would devote your time to it. 

Howard — I do make a great deal of money, Mr. 
Kingsley. 

Mr. K. — I know you do, but you do not let it ac- 
cumulate. My boy, that is the secret of it all. Be- 
fore your money has time to do you any good you 
throw it away on some charitable purpose. Unless 
you take your father's advice and mine you will 
never have the satisfaction of seeing your work 
count for something. 

Howard — You mean in yours and father's way of 
thinking and measuring values. 

Mr. K. — You will find that we are right, and I 
sincerely hope it will not be too late. 

Howard — Maybe so. But until then I shall con- 
tinue to follow a different purpose. My business here 
tonight is to raise more money for what you call 
foolishness. Father will be here as soon as the mes- 
senger can find him. I wanted you two together, so 
that we might settle this matter tonight. (Produces 
bag of gold nuggets from pocket and pours on table 
with rattle.) How does that look to you, Mir. 
Kingsley ? 

Mr. K.— (Showing great elation.) GOLD! For 
Heaven's sake, Howard Carpenter, where did you 
find this ( gold ? What does this mean ? 

Howard — (Jokingly.) What will you give me to 
tell you? 

Mr. K.—We have paid as high as ONE MILLION 
DOLLARS for information like this. If there is 
much more where this came from, and of this qual- 
ity, we will pay you whatever it is worth. Enter Mc- 
Klusky, R., followed by Mr. Carpenter. 

McKlushy — Mr. Carpenter. (Exit, R.) 



Mr. K. — By George ! Carp, hurrah ! 

Mr. C. — Why, hello, son. When did you get back ? 

Howrad — I have just arrived — 

Mr. K. — And look what he came wagging in. 

Mr. C— ( Examining nuggets. ) GOLD ! VALU- 
ABLE GOLD ! Where on earth did you get this, 
Howard ? 

Mr. K. — That is what I asked him, but he says 
there must be some agreement before he will tell. 

Mr. C. — (In astonishment.) Why, that sounds 
mighty funny, coming from YOU, HOWARD. I'm 
truly glad to see you learning the value of gold. 
What agreement do you want, boy ? Hurry and name 
your terms, for we want to know where you found it. 

Mr. K. — Yes, don't keep us waiting. 

Howard — The agreement I ask is this : That one- 
half the profits from working this gold mine, which 
is situated on MY possessions, be given me to do with 
as I please. 

Mr. K. — You say the mine is on YOUR posses- 
sions ? 

Howard — I do, sir. 

Mr. G. — You lucky dog. We agree. 

Mr. K. — Yes, we accept your terms. Now tell us 
where it is. 

Howard — You remember, father, not long ago I 
begged you out of $10,000.00 to finish out the amount 
I needed to build a home for the care of sick babies, 
who had no home or money of their own, or anyone 
to properly care for them — just little neglected souls 
fighting circumstances and conditions far too great 
for their helpless hands ? 

Mr. C. — I don't soon forget giving away $10,000, 
my boy. 

Howard — I'm sorry that is a fact. You have given 
me a great deal of money and permitted me to use 
nuy own to promote the happiness of the downtrod- 
den. And I am afraid you have always counted it a 
bad investment, but in this instance I believe you will 
find it a good investment FROM YOUR STAND- 
POINT. 

Mr. K. — (Pleasantly.) Howard, if you don't 
come right down to tacks and tell us where this gold 
came from we will spank you. 

Mr. O. — Yes, I will help you, King. 
10 



Howard — You old misers. Listen while I pour a 
golden stream of luck into your eager ears. Down 
on my mother's mountain land in Northern Georgia 
I lately decided to build a beneficent institution to 
her blessed memory, and remembering how tenderly 
she loved me and all other babies I selected an insti- 
tution for the care of them in her home country. The 
work has been begun. Some sand was needed. I 
went with some laborers to find it. As they spaded 
it into the wagons I saw glittering (Mr. K. and Mr. 
C. show interest) particles, and examined them. 

Mr. K. and Mr. C— Yes, yes, GO ON ! 

Howard — It was gold. Above in the streams 
those nuggets were found, and further explorations 
discovered an outcrossing vein richer, I believe, far 
richer, than anything in all your possessions. 

Mr. K.— What will you take in GOLD for this 
tract of land? 

Mr. C. — Yes, name your price. We will buy it 
outright. 

Howard— GENTLEMEN ! Including you, fath- 
er. I have told you I was building a monument to 
my mother on this land. DO YOU THINK YOU 
COULD BUY IT FKOM ME? 

Mr. C. — We did not mean to put it that way, son. 

Mr. K. — Indeed no. 

Howard — I know you didn't. It was the gold that 
blinds you to all sense of fairness to the living and 
the dead. I hope both of you will get your eyes 
opened and be lifted up to a higher vision plane 
where you will see something in life that is better 
than gold. Now, if you agree to my terms have your 
engineers ready to go back with me tonight. 

Mr. C. — Indeed, we accept such a liberal offer. 
Here, take this ore to our chief chemist and bring us 
his opinion on it as soon as possible. Bring it 
back here. We will draw up the agreement and have 
it ready when you return. 

Howard — (Laughing.) Kemember to make it 
binding now. (Exit, K.) 

Mr. K— What do you think of that for luck? Why 
can not our engineers stumble upon such rich finds? 

Mr. G. — I cannot understand it. If anybody but 
Howard Carpenter had brought this wonderful 
story to me I should have laughed him] down. We 

11 



have searched the mountains in North Georgia for 
gold for years. We have found strong indications, 
but never ore worth working. And now this boy has 
found it. I do not doubt that it is there in abund- 
ance. 

Mr. K. — Of course it is there. And under the 
agreement that boy will have money enough to build 
a wonderful institution. It will make his great hos- 
pital here in New York look small. Carp, that boy 
is a wonder. 

Mr. G. — Thank you, King. Of course I think so. 
I have spent my life in piling up a great fortune for 
him. I have given him every advantage — private tu- 
tors, the best universities in the East and abroad, 
travel and everything his heart could wish. And I 
fancy he is something more than the average boy. 

Mr. K. — Inded he is. He is a noble man, and you 
should be proud of him. 

Mr. G. — I am, King. But there is one thing that 
distresses me. He will not take any interest in our 
business. We are getting old, King, and there is no 
one to take charge of our vast interests and continue 
the work we have spent our lives in. It has often 
occurred to me that if . . . that we . . . ah, 
it is a very delicate subject, my old friend. 

Mr. K. — Speak freely, Carp, my sympathies are 
with you in all things. 

Mr. G. — I feel assured of that, but I do not know 
what you will think of my proposition. We both 
know from experience that no man is at his best un- 
til he is happily married. 

Mr. K. — I wouldn't dare tell Marguerite anything 
to the contrary. I know you speak the truth. And 
I might as well say I know also what you have to 
propose. It is impossible. My daughter is heart and 
soul with Howard in this foolish philanthropy busi- 
ness. The best part of her life has been spent in his 
great hospital. There is never a holiday she does not 
separate me from a wad of money to aid her in her 
little pet charities. If they marry our fortunes 
would not last through their honeymoon. 

Mr. G. — Then I understand you — 

Mr. K. — Yes, I am against this marriage. It is 
impossible. Our daughter is engaged to Prince Ba- 



12 



vari of Austria. Haven't you seen the evening pa- 
pers announcing this important social affair? 

Mr. C. — (Rises and goes front, remaining silent.) 

Mr. Z.— Why are you so silent ? Don't you think 
I deserve to be congratulated on my daughter's great 
success ? 

Mr. G. — I was thinking of my boy. He will never 
live down this disappointment. 

Mr. K. — Such talk is folly, old man. He will now 
turn his mind to business and be a true Carpenter. 
I have done the best I could and am very proud that 
my daughter is to sit in the Courts of the East. It 
is costing me pretty high, but the honor to my fam- 
ily is worth it, sir. 

Mr. C. — Stop. From what you say I infer that 
your family would not have been honored by a mar- 
riage to my son. Do you fancy I appreciate such 
insults. I came here to offer you as a husband for 
your daughter a worthy American gentleman, and 
you insist on prating about honor to your family. 

Mr. K. — My old friend, we should not allow this 
small matter to get between us. 

Mr. <7.-^SMALL MATTER, INDEED. AN- 
DREW KINGSLEY, you have played me false for 
the first time in your life. It is humiliating to me to 
realize that you would give a woman like Alice in 
marriage to some vagabond prince, who will squan- 
der your gold and your daughter, too, rather than to 
MY son. I sincerely hope it will be a happy mar- 
riage, but I am inclined to believe he will rob, divorce 
and send her back home to you — a lot wiser and more 
experienced, but far less beautiful and rich. In the 
meantime, I hope my son may grow worthy of her. 
And since this is the way you feel towards me and 
mine I serve notice that our partnership is at an end, 
sir. When you have finished your plans as to this 
engagement you may take up the matter of a disso- 
lution of our business interests. Tell Howard to 
bring the report to me at home, and do not let him 
see Alice. It might cheapen her. (Exit, R., mad.) 

Mr. K.— Ha, ha, ha. Mad. I wonder if HOW- 
ARD CARPENTER, SENIOR, thinks I would 
marry my daughter to his money-wasting fool rather 
than to one of the HAPSBURGS? Not much. A 
few silly tears may scald the bloom from their youth - 

13 



ful cheeks for a while, but it will come back again, 
and the jewels in Alice's crown will be brighter be- 
cause of them. (Mrs. K., L.) 

Mrs. K. — Andrew, don't you think you should go 
in and show your respects to the Prince? 

Mr. K. — I showed that this afternoon when I 
agreed to pay off the mortgage on his blooming old 
castle and settle an annuity of — Oh, I forget how 
much. I don't want to see him until I have made 
more money. 

Mrs. K. — Oh, don't worry about what it is costing 
us. The honor is worth all of it. (Picking up book.) 
Just listen to this description of the celebration of a 
prince's wedding in court. (Reads.) "At these 
functions the King and Queen, and all members of 
the royal household" — now just listen to this part — 
"INCLUDING the parents of such brides as may be 
of birth foreign to the blood royal" — that's us — "are 
dressed as for occasions of state." (Closes book.) 
Oh, won't we feel grand. I'm so glad Alice is not 
going to marry Howard Carpenter, as we thought 
for a while she would. 

Mr. K. — Well, you need have no fears about that. 
His father has been here this evening with a big 
proposition to unite our fortunes by this very mar- 
riage. 

Mrs. K. — The designing wretch ! He has seen the 
evening papers and thinks he can spoil our plans. 

Mr. K. — If he undertakes it I will spend my last 
dollar to defeat him. In this matter I'm determined. 
Alice shall marry the Prince or I will disown and 
drive her into the street. 

Mrs. K. — It is plain that we must be very firm with 
her. All girls have to be driven into their best inter- 
ests, and she is no exception. At first she seemed 
pleased, but lately she has seemed not to care. If she 
refuses the Prince it will bring the most humiliating 
scandal, and all New York will laugh. Andrew, don't 
let her see Howard Carpenter again. One word 
from that man would spoil everything. They would 
marry, and the next thing we would know of them 
they would be members of the Salvation Army in 
the highest of standing. 

Mr. K. — (Rising.) Something must be done. He 
is coming back with some reports, and I must let 

14 



him in. If not he will suspect something, and there 
are not enough police in New York to keep him out 
Mrs. K — Such blunders. Leave him in my hands, 
I will take care of him. t 

Mr. K. — He ought to be here in short time, lell 
him his father has the contracts and left word for 
him to come home immediately. (Exit, L.) 

Mrs. K. — I did not spend a fortune traveling the 
continent looking for a suitable husband for my 
daughter to have it spoiled by a street preacher like 
HOWAKD CARPENTER. He prates about truth 
and honor and contentment worth more than gold. 
Now it stands me in hand to test his sincerity. After 
all, thank goodness, he is a man of honor and will be 
a gentleman. I must play along this line. What 
shall it be? I have it. If, when he comes here, he 
could hear a wedding ceremony being said, and I 
could make him believe it that of Alice, he would 
hide himself away and nurse his broken heart in si- 
lence. 

McKlushy— (Entering, R., and followed by Rob- 
ert.) Mr. Robert Woolsey. 

Mrs. K.— Ah, Robert, of all the people in the 
world I would rather see you right at this time. You 
are entirely welcome. McKlusky, leave us. 

McKlushy— (Bowing low.) Yes, madam. (Exit, 
R.) 

Mrs. K.— Robert, could I depend on you in a 
tight place? 

Robert— -If it has to do with this love affair I am 
with you. Mr. Carpenter came home in a terrible 
rage and I was so tickled I just had to run over and 
learn more about it. 

Mrs. K.—I knew you would be my friend. Mr. 
Carpenter has never treated you right. When he 
married your mother I thought he was going to give 
you a fair chance. He has not. Howard is in your 
way. Why don't you get him out ? 

Robert — I have made many a plan to do so, but my 
nerve fails me in the pinch. 

Mrs. K. — Had you ever thought that if he and 
Alice should marry they would get every penny his 
father has? Now, I am trying to prevent this very 
marriage, and need your help. If I can make How- 
ard believe she does not love him, he will leave New 

15 



York and never return. You will be free to do as 
you please. 

Robert — I'll help you do anything. 

Mrs. K. — He's coming here again in a few mo- 
ments. Go into that room and when you hear me 
approach the door begin an old-fashioned ceremony. 
Make it short and to the point. And when you come 
to that part that goes, "If any man know a reason, 
etc., make it strong. 

Robert — (Imitating in a deep voice.) "Or for- 
ever hold his peace." 

Mrs. K. — Excellent. Just duplicate that and leave 
the rest with me. (Exit Robert, L.) (Taps bell for 
McKlusky. Enter McKlusky.) McKlusky, when 
Mr. Howard Carpenter returns show him in here at 
once. If you let him go elsewhere you shall suffer 
for it. Use the West entrance and meet him on the 
drive. Get on guard and do as I say, or the Prince 
will spit you on his sword. Hurry, I hear someone 
coming. (Exit, McKlusky. R.) When they get 
home to their glittering castle, strong arms and glit- 
tering armor will prevent any such interference with 
their happiness. (Enter McKlusky, R., followed by 
Howard, paper in hand.) 

McKlusky — Mr. Howard Carpenter. 

Mrs. K. — I'm glad to see you, Howard. 

Howard — (Holding out paper.) Tell me, is that 
true? 

Mrs. K. — Not exactly. The announcement states 
they are to be married soon, but a late cable advises 
that important matters of state demand the Prince's 
attention, and so they are to be married tonight. 

Howard— -MRS. KINGSLEY! Alice to be mar- 
ried TONIGHT? 

Mrs. K. — Aren't you glad she has caught a noble- 
man? 

Howard — May I speak just one word to her? 
_ Mrs. K. — O, certainly. But, really, we have no 
time to lose. They are booked for passage on the 
Tirembic, which sails at midnight, but because you 
and she have been such dear old friends, I think it 
would not be right to deny you the pleasure of seeing 
her before she is Alice Kingsley no more. (Ap- 
proaches door.) 



16 



Robert — (Off stage.) Alice Kingsley, do you take 
this man — 

Mrs. K. — Too late. 

Howard — (Advancing.) Let me pass; I will 
speak. 

Mrs. K. — Do not make a fool of yourself. (How- 
ard hesitates.) 

Robert — If any man know a reason why these 
two should not wed, let him speak now. 

Howard — (Starts as if to force his way past. Mri. 
Kingsley raises hand.) 

Mrs. K.—MR. CARPENTER, (Howard stops.) 

Robert — Or forever hold his peace. I pronounce 
you man and wife. 

Howard — Or forever hold his peace. (Say this 
slowly.) 

Mrs. K. — Good-night, Mr. Carpenter. 

Howard — Mrs. Kinglesy, if you designed this hu- 
miliation to crush me you have succeeded far beyond 
anything you could have hoped. I knew you did 
not want your daughter to marry me, but I never 
dreamed that you loved her so little as to barter 
her away like this in order that your social ambi- 
tions might be gratified. Small wonder that you 
have always ridiculed my efforts to correct some of 
the damning faults of society, calling me street- 
preacher, milk- sop and fool. All these things I may 
be, but so long as wealth creates such wickedness 
in high places and God gives me the light to see it, 
you will find me in the vanguard with what little 
strength I may have, trying to combat it. It is true 
that you have designed a plan and worked it in the 
dark to the end that my sweetest contentment is en- 
tirely gone. But in doing so you have fired the 
fagots which shall burn away the rubbish and leave 
the one purpose of my life pure and strong. I pity 
you. Good-night. (Exit, R.) 

Mrs. K. — What a sermon. If Alice should even 
think of marrying that fanatic, I would never speak 
to her again. 

Robert — (Entering L., hurriedly.) O, Mrs. Kings- 
ley, everything is going to the demnition bow-wows. 
Alice has ordered the Prince from the house and 
swears she will never speak to him again. He is 
raging like a mad bull, and speaks of damages and 

17 



slander. Go to him at once, or everything is lost. 
(Enter Prince, followed by Mr. K. Both making 
gestures, and Prince, L., talking excitedly and cross- 
ing to R. Mr. K. stepping L.) 

•Prince — Mine honor spoiled — my fair name made 
a zhoke for se peasants. Humiliation, disgrace, scan- 
dal. You shall pay for dees, Mr. Kingsley. Verdy, 
verdy dearly. 

Mrs. K. — O, Prince Bavari, you do not under- 
stand Alice. It is the American way to add zest to 
love affairs. 

Prince — Dom se Amerdrican way. I do not zest. 
I vill haf damages to my personal inzhurry. New 
York shall know, and it vill laugh at you. Heee. 

Mrs. K. — O, this will never do. Bring Alice here. 
She will explain. 

Alice — (At door.) Do not send for me. I am here 
and will explain. That brute insulted me more than 
once. He is hideous. I would not marry him if the 
propagation of the human race were at stake. 

Prince — Br-r-r-r-r-r. Vot ? 

Mr. K.— ALICE ! 

Alice — Don't stop me, I will speak. As compared 
to Howard Carpenter that man could walk bolt up- 
right around his ankles as a dwarf goes round a 
mountain. 

Mr. K. — You are a fool! 

Alice — Why? "Why? Because I will not lay my 
heart on the altar of your social ambitions and be 
sold into the bondage of this lascivious wretch? I 
came near doing it, but thanks to the love that ema- 
nates from my heart for another, I am strengthened 
to defend myself. You have scorned me and hell 
hath no fury like the hurt I feel. I have no father 
and mother to defend me. You, who claim to be such 
bedeck me with these diamonds and pearls until I 
look like a bawdy, and would sacrifice my happiness 
for the envy of the "400." O, for Heaven's sake, 
put him out or my heart will burst with rage. (This 
point must be worked up to in an increasing raffe.) 

Prince— 1 vill haf ONE HUNNERD TOUSAND 
TALLERS FOR DEES INSULTS. But ef you 
pays me dot mndch, I vill let se incidents thrap. 

Mrs. K. — Pay him. Andrew. We cannot afford to 
be scandalized. 

18 



Alice — Pay him nothing, father. Order him from 
the house. 

Mr. K. — Alice, you shall marry the Prince to- 
night, or, if not, do not call me father, but leave my 
house and nevei let me see your face again. 

Alice — (Pleadingly.) Father! Mr. K. turns 
cooly.) Mother! (Kneeling.) 

Mrs. K. — Will you marry the Prince ? 

Alice — Not if it saved (rising) your sinful souls 
from hell, and brought ten thousand kings and em- 
perors begging at my feet and I could gratify your 
foolish ambitions by turning them over to beg of 
you. I expect to reign as queen, but I purpose it 
shall be in the kingdom of love, the consort of a 
noble man, whom you now hate, but I prophesy some 
day you will be glad to have him smile on you. 

Father, if I loved you Jess it would be easier to 
choose. (Taking off jewels.) I know you too well 
to try to dissuade you from j^our determination. But 
in truth and honor I cannot do otherwise than choose 
the way with less splendor and grandeur, but far 
more love and happiness. Here are my jewels, worth 
slightly more than the $100,000 damages exacted by 
the Prince. I take the blame for this regrettable 
incident, and wish to pay the cost of it. (Hands 
jewels.) These costly gems would not look well on 
a working girl in gingham. 

Prince Bavari, you will find it an easy matter to 
find a Princess who would be far more satisfactory 
than I could ever be. I'm afraid I do not quite ap- 
preciate the honor of the title you offer me. (Going 
L.) I prefer to live in this sweet old land of Lib- 
erty, the faithful wife of an American gentleman. 

(CURTAIN.) 



ACT II. 

SCENE— Study, home of Howard Carpenter, Sr. ; 
midnight same day. 

STAGE SETTING— Any parlor or plain room, 
with doors or portieres R. and L. Walls decorated 
with a few college banners and at least two pictures 
— one on R. C, one on L. C, turned to wall. 

PROPERTIES— Library table or desk in C, end 

19 



to audience. Chairs on either side. Small table and 
typewriter. Letter heads, envelopes and letter tray. 
Shoe for grins. 

COSTUMES AND MAKEUP— All who were in 
Act I, same. Mrs. Carpenter, elegant kimono, hair 
powdered to light gray to represent woman of 
fifty. Miss Robinson, in street suit, with hat and 
gloves. Klink, as valet, with heavy sideburns. 
Grins, as valet, with gray wig. 



(Enter Klink, L., followed by Miss Robinson.) 

Klink — Pray be seated, madam. I will inform 
Mr. Howard that you are here. (Going.) You are 
his private secretary, I believe. 

Miss R. — Yes. (Exit Klink, R.) I wonder why 
Mr. Carpenter has sent for me at this hour of the 
night. Some 10,000 words of dictation on some new 
lecture or book, I suppose. If it were anybody but 
Mr. Carpenter, I would not work at such unreason- 
able hours. (Enter Grins, R., elegant shoe on hand 
and rubDing it with clean cloth.) 

Grins — 'Enin', Miss Robinson. 

Miss R. — Good evening, Grins. 

Grins — Massar 'Oward'l be in in er minit. 

Miss R. — Thank you. That is a good looking shoe 
3^ou have there. Why do you wear it on your hand ? 

Grins — 'Cause I cain't git hit on ma foot. 

Miss R. — That's a pretty good reason. By that 
means you are able to wear a small, stylish gentle- 
man's shoe, when otherwise you could not. Is that it ? 

Grins — Yassam. 'Ceptin' I wears dis kind uv er 
shoe jest long ernuf ter git hit spick an span as er 
Sunday shirt funt, en es shiny as ma face. Massa 
'Oward sho' duse like er clean shoe. En I likes ter 
keep 'em dat way fur him. He's goin' away ternight, 
en I hopes he'll take me wid him — 'cause he said he 
mought neber cum back any mo'. He sho' am hurt 
'bout sumpin'. 

Miss R. — Tell me what it is, Grins. 

Grins — I don't know, ma'am. See dat pictur up 
dar? He cum in er while ergo, en he looked at hit 
fur er long time, en neber said er word. Den he 
turn hit roun' right slow lack. En den hit looked 
ter dis ole nigger lack his eyes wus wet. (Miss R. 
turns picture enough to see it.) 

20 



Miss R.~ ALICE KINGSLEY ! Have you been 
faithless? He loved you in such a way he cannot 
soon forget. (Enter Howard, R., affecting light- 
headedness.) 

Howard— This is either a very late or a very early 
start for a day's work, isn't it, Miss Robinson ? 

Miss R. — The latest, or the earliest, I remember to 
have made. 

Howard — Yes, I know it is an unreasonable hour, 
and I deeply appreciate your kindness to come. I 
am leaving New York tonight, and just when I shall 
return is very indefinite. Maybe never. 

Miss R. — (Waits silently.) 

Howard — Miss Robinson, my heart is broken. My 
future, which has always spread out before me a 
beautiful panorama of happiness, has suddenly been 
overcast with an ominous cloud of infidelity. It is 
more than I can bear alone. I have no sister to go 
to. My mother is dead, and father doesn't care. So 
I come to you for advice and 'help. 

Miss R. — It is a great compliment and if I can aid 
you, Mr. Carpenter, I shall be happy. 

Howard — I want a woman's view and estimate of 
love. Can a woman love and ever forget it? 

Miss R. — A true woman? 

Howard — (Thinks.) Yes. 

Miss R. — No. Except sometimes long enough to 
renew her strength to love more and better. 

Howard — That would seem to hold out some hope, 
and my hungry heart cries out for it. Yet I know it 
cannot be. 

Miss R. — Mr. Carpenter, I can tell you from an 
experience much fuller than the world knows any- 
thing about that love is the strongest power in the 
world, and never goes unrequited. The way may 
often seem rugged with no stars to guide, yet the 
end comes and with it love's reward. 

Howard — Thank you, my friend, for your com- 
forting sympathy. 1 shall face it with what strength 
I have ; and when I have forgotten I shall return and 
we will work together again. In the meantime, I 
will ask that you look after the proofs of my last 
book. I will give you an order on che publishers so 
that they will deliver to you the proofs and accept 
your O. K. on them. Have you a notebook handy ? 

21 



I will give you the dictation. (Miss R. opens note 
book and picks up pencil.) "Merrill & Co., City. I 
shall be out of the city for some time and have ar- 
ranged with my private secretary, Miss Robinson, 
the bearer hereof, to read and approve the proofs 
shortly to come from your press. Please consult 
with her as you would with me and accept her word 
as final in all matters pertaining to my business." 
(Takes up letter head.) I will sign my name here 
on this letter head, giving room for the order. So 
that you need not trouble to transcribe the order to- 
night. Tomorrow you can write that order above my 
signature. You see, I have the utmost confidence in 
your sincerity as well as your ability. 

Miss R. — (Rising.) I shall try very hard to merit 
both. 

Howard — Thank you a thousand times for coming 
tonight, and take good care of yourself. Good-bye. 
(Offers hand.) 

Miss R. — Good-bye, Mr. Carpenter. My sympa- 
thies are with you. 

Howard — Thank you. (Exit, Miss R., L.) (Grins 
enters, R., shoe in hand.) Grins, have you finished 
packing? 

Grins — Putty nigh. Dat Tshmans wants ter know 
does yer want ter take yer Otty-mobile wid yer. 

Howard — Yes. I want it started at once. Tell 
him to send the roadster. 

Grins — Yassar. Massar 'Oward, I'se gwine ter 
be powerful lonesome here widout yer. I'se got de 
blues already. 

Howard — What gave you the blues, Grins? 

Grins — I don't know, sah, onless it war missin' dat 
shinin' face up dar. (Points to picture.) Don't 
yer want me ter take hit down en pack hit up so'se 
you kin take hit wid yer? (Howard turns and looks 
at picture.) 

Howard — Yes, I want you to, but you must not. 
Fate has turned that picture and you and I must 
let it remain so. 

Grins — Massar 'Oward. whut am fate? 

Hoivard — (Slowly turning" back and sits on desk 
in center. Grins remains «olemn and motionless.) — 
Fate? Why, my faithful old friend, fate is that un- 
avoidable destiny that stalks the earth hunt! In band 

22 



with happiness and sometimes leads it headlong to 
destruction. It is the canker worm which steals 
into the fairest rose and eats its heart away—then 
laughs to see her fair petals wither and fall. Fate is 
the biting frost which drives the bloom from the 
cheek of the peach and makes want where P^nty 
was Fate is the wintry wind that freezes the blood 
in the human heart and destroys its fondest hopes 
and purposes. 

Grins— Ain't dar no way er tall ter dodge hit I 
Howard— None. (Enter Mr. Carpenter, L.) 
When we think we are secure we fall. Today I loved 
life and its promises. To live was glorious. Tonight 
I feel the hoary frost of fate on my head. _ It chills 
every drop of blood in me and makes me wish I had 
never been. , 

Mr. tf.— (Advancing and placing hand on How- 
ard's shoulder. Exit Grins, R, slowly.) Howard, 
my boy, I am sorry for you. 

Howard— Father, if I had not loved to the exclu- 
sion of everything God has created, it would be 
easier for me to give back to her the things that are 
hers. To give her all that is hers would make me a 
bankrupt, indeed ; for there is not a good thing about 
me she did not give. My highest appreciation for 
the beautiful in art, literature and music came 
through her influence. My hatred for the low and 
vulgar came only through seeing the lack of them 
in her. She has been faithless, .and it crushes me, 
but yet I love her. My life is hers, and, thank heav- 
en, I feel no blame for her. 

i\[ T c.— She does not deserve such devotion. 
Howard— Stop, father! Do not speak unkindly 

of her. 

Mr. 0. — I beg your pardon, son. I know sne is 
not to blame. The sin is at her father's door. For- 
get her, Howard, and let this be the means of turn- 
ing your attention to my business. From this day 
on my relations with Andrew Kingsley are at an 
end, and I need you. 
Howard— Father ! You don't mean— 
Mr. C.—Do you think I would associate with a 
man who does not regard my family as worthy of 
his own? The Carpenters, my son, have made good 
to an enviable degree for generations, and I want 

23 



you to join me now and prepare yourself to continue 
the family prestige. 

Howard — Father, I have but one ambition, and 
that is to add to the fame and glory of the name of 
Carpenter. But it is in a different line of endeavor 
to yours and the generations that have gone. I do 
not seem to care for the glamor and splendor of the 
society of the rich. My heart leads me past the 
castle, with its gaiety, cut glass and old wines, to the 
icy alleys and hovels where the unfortunate and im- 
provident are. I cannot get away from the faith 
that these are my brethren. 

Mr. G. — That is a noble and praiseworthy senti- 
ment, my boy, but I do not see why you should give 
it all your time and means. 

Howard — Indeed, it is strange. I cannot quite 
understand it myself. But it is true, nevertheless, 
that I find my greatest happiness in gathering a lit- 
tle frozen, hungry, neglected boy or girl under my 
big warm overcoat, and assuring him that I am his 
friend. I believe your old heart would feel a strange 
sensation if you could watch the nurses bring from 
under the dirt and grime of a city's neglect a fair 
youth with love and gratitude overflowing his heart 
as he experiences for the first time in his life the 
comfort of clean nighties and a well-fed stomach. 
Then, father, when he has been tucked away in a 
cozy little bed, and for the first time in his life sleeps 
in comfort, to go with me and look down on him and 
feel in your heart what is meant by "Inasmuch as 
ye did it unto the least of ihese, my brethren, ye did 
it unto me." Do not ask me to give it up. If in the 
wreckage Alice has made, \ can still feel determined 
to go ahead, I beg you not to hinder. Let me forget 
that she has been the balancing power in my life. 
(Turning to pictures.) Between these two pictures 
I have worked and dreamed. The dynamo that 
drove me was the combined influences of these two 
good women — my mother and my sweetheart. She 
(indicating Alice) has taken herself away. She (in- 
dicating his mother) was taken long ago. Her mem- 
ory is sweet and powerful and bears me up in this 
dark hour to be a man. She was pure and good and 
kind, and loved you and me, I know, ^nd down 
in Georgia, where the birds sing as nowhere else in 

24 



all the world — where you found, wooed and won her 
— I purpose to build such a memorial to her blessed 
memory as will proclaim to all earth in accents fit 
only for the tongues of angels a mother's undying 
love for her babe. Father, I am going to the end of 
my strength. Won't you join me? 

Mr. (7.— (Offering hand.) My boy, $100,000,000 
and a father's sympathetic heart are behind you. 

Howard — Thank you ! Thank you ! Thank you ! 
I'm going tonight. (Enter Grins.) Grins, do you 
want to go with me? 

Grins — Lawd, yes. 

Howard — Do you think you could learn to run a 
car? 

Grins — (Imitating a car, and going R.) I'll git 
ma duds. CExit.) 

Howard — We'll make it, alright. Good-bye. 

Mr. <?.— Good-bye. (Exit, Howard, R.) He'll 
want to take that old negro to heaven with him. 
(Bitterly.; Andrew Kingsley shall pay dearly for 
this. 

Mrs. C. — (Entering.) Howard, why is everything 
so upset here tonight? Must Alice Kingsley 's mar- 
riage cause such a commotion that no one can sleep ? 
Howard should have been paying some attention to 
her, instead of forever monkeying with his rotten 
charity. 

Mr. C. — Elizabeth, if that is the way you feel 
towards my son, I ask that you do not express your- 
self tonight — or ever. 

Mrs. O. — I do not see why you resent the truth so 
sharply. If my boy had got into such a muddle you 
would say he was a fool. But for some strange rea- 
son, you always pet Howard and condemn my son. 

Mr. O. — (Going L.) We 'are not going to open 
this lengthy argument at this late hour. I have done 
more for Robert than he deserves, because he is your 
son, and you are my wife. But since you insist on 
driving me to it, I say again, that until he stops 
drinking, gambling and disgracing all of us with his 
disgraceful associations with the scum of the earth, 
I am done with him. If he wants to be a man, I 
will give him every advantage. But until then, 
nothing. Good-night. (Exit, L.) 



25 



Mrs. G. — It is not right that Howard should have 
everything and my son only $300 a month to spend. 
I know he dissipates, but he will quit that some day. 
(Working to extreme right.) If he had Howard's 
chances to make money, he would soon be rich. (En- 
ter Robert and Prince, L., Mrs. C. is not seen by 
them.) 

Robert— Shhh. These are his WORKROOMS, 
and when he is in the city he stays here or monkeys 
with the poor devils in the gutter. 

Prince — Vot a strange vellow. It iss a grdreat pity 
to kill him. But ef Mees Kingsley tell him all, he 
vill strangle me. He said as mudch, en I pelieve 
him). 

Robert — She will never have the pleasure of tell- 
ing him anything. (Sees his mother.) Shhh. Step 
into the next room and wait until I call you. (Exit 
Prince, L.) (Feigning drunk.) Musher, hie, are 
yer goin' ter sthay up, hie, all night, hie, in celebra- 
tion er dish broken heart ? 

Mrs. G. — (Going to him.) Oh! my boy, my bojM 
I heard what you said. Promise me you will do 
nothing to harm Howard. 

Robert — Alzhright. I promish. 

Mrs. 0. — Who was that with you ? 

Robert — Hie, zhat was my friend. He's gone home. 
Now, you run along to bed like er good girl. 

Mrs. G. — Come and let me put you to bed. 

Robert — I'm alzhright, hie, not drunk, hie, hjest 
drinkin'. 

Mrs. G. — I'm going and pray that you will be a 
man. (Going.) 

Robert — I'm a purty good man, ain't I? (Exit 
Mrs. C, L.) Poor mother. I was hard to hurt her 
like that. But she knows I never come to these 
rooms for any good purpose. I had to fool her so 
that she would leave me and not believe what she 
heard. (Enter Prince.) 

Prince — Hey, vott? Vy didn't you send for me? 

Robert — Why didn't you give me time ? 

Prince — Pecause it occurred to me dot ef zis Car- 
penter fellow find me in hes house dot I would vant 
to be glose ter zumpody. 

Robert — (Looking R.) There goes his car. The 
room is ours. What plan have you to suggest ? 

26 



Prince — In ze first blaze ve had better blan not 
to haf dot car cum pack vid him. 

Robert — There is no danger of that. He is off for 
Georgia to nurse his broken heart in silence and try 
to forget. 

Prince — I hobe 'e forgeds dot I did not ged se 
chance ter be good to her, und dot pecause her pappa 
vus a dom fool, I scharged him one hunnert tousand 
tallers for it. 

Robert — If we do not follow him to the mountains 
and leave him there food for the crows, he will learn 
the truth. Then he will never stop until he has pum- 
meled you into jelly. 

Prince — (Nervously.) Vot? You tdink zo? I 
gif you dis hunnert tousand ef you keel him. Dot iss 
VEN you haf keeled him. (Enter Klink. Prince 
thinks it is Howard and rushes across stage. Br-r-r-r. 
Gott und Himmel, Meester Carpenter. I'm here to 
apologize. (Turns.) Ah-h-h-h. 

Robert — Be quiet, you fool. Hie, you are dhrunk. 

Prince — Yez, hie, dhrunk, und haf no dhrink 
to offer you, hie. (Robert and Prince, ad lib.) 

Klink — (Advancing and placing hand on Robert's 
shoulder.) Yez mither hordered me ter put yez ter 
bed, sir. 

Robert — Hie, ter hic'l wid yer, yer high chin 
Irishman, hie. Ain't I purty ernuf ter run my own 
bushness ? 

Klink — I'm sorry, sir, but I have me borders, sir. 

Prince — (Producing coins ) Dell lies musher, hie, 
you haf put him ter bet, und dot he schleeps. 

Klink — (Bowing low as he takes money.) De- 
pend on me, sir. (Exit, L,) 

Robert — That is more money than Klink has had 
in a year. We are wasting time, Prince. Somewhere 
in this room there is a bag of gold nuggets worth 
$1,000. I heard Mr. Carpenter tell mother Howard 
brought it back with him. (Looks in desk.) 

Prince— Pag uv GOOLD. Vare? 

Robert — It may be in his room. Goes R.) I 
will look there. 

Prince — (Looks round nervously when alone. 
Goes after Robert.) Ve vill bot look togedder. I 
fear you might haf ter fight him alone. (Re-enter 
Robert as Prince is about to exit.) 

27 



Robert — It must be in his desk. (Enter Klink, L.) 

Klink — A letter which de messenger said was to 
be given to no one but Meester 'Oward Carpenter, 
Jr. The messenger arrived in an ambulance from 
Mr. 'Oward's 'ospital and is waiting for an answer. I 
thought it might be himportant so brought it up. 

Robert — Let me see it. 

Klink — (Drawing back.) Pardon me, sir, but it 
is for no one but Meester 'Oward Carpenter, Jr. 

Robert — (Angrily.) Give me that letter, Klink. 

Prince — (Producing roll of bills and peeling off 
one for Klink.) Ah-h-h. Vait, Meester Woolsey. 
(Hands bill.) Gif me dot lee tie note. 

Klink — (Hands letter.) O, dot is different. Now 
I am sure yez will give it to Meester Carpenter. 
(Prince hands letter to Robert, who opens and 
reads.) 

Robert — (Reading.) "Dear Howard. You have 
been deceived." (Prince hands Klink another bill.) 

Prince — (To Klink.) He vas not deceived. 

Robert — (Reading on.) "Do not believe anything 
you hear, but come to me at once. I am at your 
hospital. Your private ambulance is waiting at your 
door to bring you. Yours faithfully, Alice." 

Prince — (Knees trembling.) Gott und Himmel! 
Vot iss am-bu-lance ? I feel myself slips. 

Robert — Hold your nerve. Prince. 

Prince — (Trembling more.) I got him. 

Robert — Something must be done. 

Prince — Mebbe ef we get dhrunk ergin it vill pe 
petter. Vot? 

Robert — (Goes to desk and sits.) This letter must 
be answered or the game is up. It will never do for 
Howard Carpenter to learn that she loves him. He 
must never know it; for if these two marry, this 
estate passes from my hands forever. I helped you 
rob old man Kingsley, now you are going to help me 
rob Howard of the Carpenter millions. 

Klink — The messenger is waiting. 

Prince — (Hurriedly gives another bill.) No, he 
iss not vaiting. 

Robert — (Discovers Howard's signature.) 
WHAT! His genuine signature on a blank page. 
Ye gods ! I'm in luck. 

Prince — Vot ? 

28 



Robert — (Holding up page.) Ha, ha, ha. How 
careless of him. Above that name I can write an 
order on the Chemical National and get any amount 
of money, for the imposter has unlimited credit. 
How much shall I write? 

Prince — Go ze limit. 

Robert — Klink, leave us. 

Klink — If yez need me I will help. 

Robert — Wait. May I depend on you, Klink, in 
a very tight place? 

Klink — The tighter, the better I would like it, sir. 

Robert — Then stay. Prince Bavari, this paper is 
worth a small fortune in itself if I use it to get 
money ; but it is worth $100,000,000 to me if I can 
make Alice Kingsley believe he despises her. 

Prince — How? Dot vill not fill your pockets. 

Robert — You don't understand. When she gets 
the letter I am going to write above that name, she 
will leave him to pursue his work in Georgia. I will 
follow him down there and he will not follow me 
away. There is no other heir to this estate. 

Prince — Meester Woolsey, you vould make a good 
prince. 

Robert — Thanks, for the insult. Klink, can you 
imitate his writing? 

Klink — I write very poorly, except on the type- 
writer. 

Robert — By George ! That makes it easy. There 
is a typewriter. Fall to it. It will seem more to her 
that he is in earnest. (Klink sits at typewriter.) 
Here, insert this sheet so as to make o letter of about 
twelve lines come down to the wonderful cognomen 
of HOWARD CARPENTER, JR. (Klink inserts 
letter.) (Dictating.) "Miss Alice Kingsley, care 
Howard Carpenter, Jr., Hospital for the Poor, 
City :" It is going to take the whole durn page for 
the address, isn't it? 

Klink — I allowed for the address, sir. 

Robert j — (Dictating.) "Answering your letter 
just received by special messenger, I am leaving the 
city tonight and do not care to see you before I go. 
I think you should be satisfied with your perfidy and 
not seek to drag me further into the muck of your 
recent and odious flirtation with your great Austrian 
Prince." 

29 



Prince — (Hands Klink another bill.) He iss 
dalkin' bout dot udder fellow. 

Robert — (Dictating.) My father desires me to 
state that he respectfully requests that you do not 
house yourself in my institution, and in this I heart- 
ily concur. Yours very truly," How about the sig- 
nature ? 

Klink — (Looking.) Just right where it is, sir. 
(Takes letter out and addresses an envelope.) 

Robert — (Looks letter over.) Purty good stuff, 
if I did reel it off. (Places letter in envelope given 
him by Klink.) Here, give this to the waiting mes- 
senger. It will soothe the maiden's pain, and permit 
me to accomplish my purpose. (Exit Klink, L.) 

PHnce — Meester Woolsey, I pelieve zis Amerdri- 
can game iss too fast for me, en I vants ter pe pack 
on ze udder side uv ze pig blue pond ven Meester 
Carpenter, Jr., choker ze stuffin' out uv you on ze 
mountains in North Georgia en den looks roun' for 
ze Prince. 

Robert — And so you are showing the yellow, are 
you? Do you think I am going to help you steal 
$100,000 and let you take all of it back home with 
you? 

Prince — Oh, ah Meester Voolsey. How mudch uv 
dot hunnert tousand must I give you? 

Robert — Ten thousand will do me for a while. 

Prince — (Pays him.) I gladly gif you dot mudch. 
En now I leaf you. Good-night. (Starts L., re- 
turns.) O, I say, Meester Voolsey, are you sure dot 
AM-BU-LANCE is not yet aldready vaiting? 

Robert — If it is I advise you to run like. 

Prince — Humiliation, disgraces, but ef I haf ter 
I pet it's veil done. (Turns up trousers and pulls 
hat down.) Here's good-ni^ht to your dear Amer- 
driea. (Starts L., enter Klink.) 

Klink — (Excitedly.) The messenger gave the let- 
ter to a lady in the ambulance who opened and read 
it. Then she sprang out and demanded to come in 
and see Meester 'Oward. I oromised her I would ar- 
range an audience if she would wait at the door. 
What shall I do, sir? 

Robert — It is Alice Kinsley. Admit her. I will 
make the most of it. (Exit Klink, L.) Prince, 
this game is just warming up. If you fail me I shall 

30 



a 



expose your blackmail and put you behind the bars. 
Prince — Vot must I do? 

Robert— Whatever I tell you. Stand over there, 

(indicating E.) She is coming. (Enter Alice in 

heavy cloak.) Why, good evening, Miss Kingsley. 

Alice— Robert, I must see Howard at once. Won t 

you be kind enough to tell him? 

Robert— I will see if he is in his rooms, though 
I am sure he will not care to see you. (Goes right.) 
Robert— (To Prince.) Drive her away with in- 
sults. 

Prince — Zis iss quvite a pleasant surprise. 
Alice— ( Starting.) You ! Why are you HERE ? 
Prince — Ef you gif me dot good long sveet kees, 
I vill dell you. (Advances close.) 

Mice — Stand back and do not touch me. It is 
enough to have fallen into your presence again. 

Prince — Dremember, my dear, ve are not zis time 
in vour papa's house. 

Alice— (Frightened.) Oh, Howard! Why don't 

-you protect me from this brute? Enter Robert, R.) 

ft ooer t— (Smiling.) I'm sorry, Miss Kingsley, but 

Mr. Howard refuses to see you and asks that you 

leave the house. 

^fe?— (Lost.) Then this letter is final. (Starts 
left.) Robert, I cannot bear to have him deceived 
like this. Tell him if he will not come here to see 
me, I shall ffo to him. 

R l )e rt—Wo\\\& vou thrust yourself into his bed- 
room like that? You seem to know where it is. 

,4^— (Infuriated.) You coward ! If only How- 
ard could hear you say thai * 

Robert— T>o not be offended because you are 
caught in his rooms at midnight when you thought 
the house was asleep. 

Prince — Ah-h-h. I see. Zis Carpenter chump iss 
some slicks. 

A lire — Robprt Woolsev. these insults shall be 
choked back down your throat. I am at your mercy 
now, for I am alone. You would not dare treat me 
this wav if Howard were *n this house. (Tries to 
open door and finds it locked.) What does this 
miean? 

Prince — Tt mpnn? dot T fret dot kees. 
Alive— It doesn't matter much, now, since Howard 
31 



doesnft care; but not until these lips are cold shall 
'they be polluted by yours. The time will come 
when truth shall come into its own, and if that time 
finds me alive, it shall also find me unspotted and 
worthy. You dare not touch me. (Tap on door, L.) 

Robert — (Opens door quickly and admits Mr. C.) 

Mr. C. — (Sees Alice.) What are you doing here? 
(To Prince.) And you? Explain this, Robert. • 

Robert — Why, ah, ah, er, Mr. Carpenter, I'm very 
sorry it has occurred. 

Mr. C. — What has occurred ? 

Robert — Why finding this woman in your son's 
rooms at midnight after she has married the Prince. 

Prince — Yez. I wish you would make her go horn 
mit me. 

Alice — Oh ! Mr. Carpenter, they lie. Protect me. 
I was driven from my father's house because I loved 
your son. I'm innocent of any wirong. 

Robert — She is here, isn't she? 

Prince — I did not bring her. She slipped out of 
bed and came. 

Alice-&ve&k, MR. CARPENTER. Choke their 
lying throats, and if I do not vindicate myself I will 
be your bond slave forever. 

Mr. C. — Alice, the proof is against you. 

Alice— (Pleadingly.) MR. CARPENTER! 

Mr. C. — I will send you wherever you wish to go 
if you desire me to, provided you will make me a 
solemn promise. 

Alice — Thank you. I will promise. Give me safe 
conduct to Howard's ambulance, which is waiting at 
the front door. 

Robert — Isn't it strange that this ambulance is 
waiting at your front door? 

Mr. C- — Stop, Robert. I need no further proof. 
Howard has deceived me. Alice, if you give your 
promise that you will never attempt to see my son 
again, or if he tries to see you, refuse him, I will 
protect you from any and all other unfavorable cir- 
cumstances, for I am sure this vagabond Prince will 
bring you to want. 

Alice — I am in the hands of fiends and it is your 
duty to defend me, Mr. Carpenter. If you cannot 
read my innocence in my eyes, and choose to be mis- 
lead by these monsters, who would destroy the honor 

32 



I 'have kept so far above reproach in order better to 
merit the love of your son, I can but accept the 
shame and disgrace. Leave me with them, or join 
them in my destruction, for there is no power m 
heaven or earth great enough to exact my promise 
that your son shall not know from my lips that l 
love him. 

Prince— Are you ready to go home mit me i 

Mr c —If she IS your wife, and if she is guilty 
of improper love for my son, she is not yet mean 
enough to be subject to your orders. GO I jExit 
Prince, L.) Robert, send that ambulance back to 
the hospital and order my car for immediate service. 
(Exit Robert, L.) 

Alice— Mr. Carpenter, you are noble to defend me 
in this manner. - 

Hf Vt c.—l cannot quite believe you are all oaci, 
Alice, so I am merely giving you the benefit of the 
doubt. Your father tried to humiliate me, but lm 
going to save him until I can get Howard back to 
New York and learn the truth. If you are guilty, 
both of you shall fall together. 

Alice— And if we are innocent— will you promise 
that we shall both RISE together? 

H T% C.—M high as my love and wealth can raise 

y ° Alice— I ask no more. (Enter Robert, L.) 

Robert— -The car is waiting. Do you wish me to 

go with her. 

& j/ r# c .—She is going to a house of correction, 
Robert, but her escort shall be a gentleman. (Going 
with Alice, L.) I will see you when I return. (Exit 
with Alice, L.) 

Robert— And so another fine scheme goes up in 
smoke ! It's a pretty hard matter to find mud thick 
enough to hide entirely a virtuous heart. 

But if you think I'm goin<r to be defeated like this, 
you are mistaken. (Starts L.) I do not care to an- 
swer the old man's questions, so here goes for North 
Georgia. (Exit on falling curtain.) 

(CURTAIN.) 



3a 



ACT ITI. 

SCENE — Mountains, North Georgia, three days 
I $\ t/f^i* 

STAGE SETTING— Any mountain or woodland 
scene. Boxes piled up and covered with gray or 
brown cloth to imitate rock-\ Leaves scattered over 
floor will add. 

PROPERTIES— Gun for Bill. Kodak for How- 
ard. Fishing pole and bucket for Mammy. Re- 
volver for Robert. 

COSTUMES AND MxVKE-UP— Nell as moun- 
tain girl of eighteen. Mammy as a fat old Southern 
mammy. Bill as mountaineer. Howard in cap and 
gloves, with automobile coat. Grins in plain black 
suit and soft hat. 



(On curtain Mammy rushes out from L., carrying 
fishing pole and bucket, and conducting herself as 
if scared of automobile, which is heard off L. Nell 
follows, laughing heartily,) 

Mammy — Lawd save us, honey. Come on heah, en 
stop dat laffin' — dis ain't no time fur foolishness. 

Nell — Why, Mammy, that thing ain't er goin' ter 
hurt yer. Them things is otto-mo-biles. I been 
hearen' 'bout them things. They jest glide erlong 
nice lack. En — 

Mammy — Now, honey, you done gone clean crazy. 
You try dat GLIDIN' business en you will wake up 
en fine yo'se'f in hebben. 

Nell — Well, that would be nice. 

Mammy — Not fur dis nigger. When I goes I 
wants, I wants ter go on de charriott. St. Peter 
wouldn't rickernize sich er thing as dat. En besides, 
when I rides, I wants ter see some bosses in funt. 
Dey's done en gone roun' de mountain, en I hopes 
dey'l stay. Who am dat, anyhow, scootin' en ca- 
vortin' roun' heah? 

Nell — Why, it's Mr. Carpenter, what's buildin' 
the big place here in the mountains. 

Mammy — Well, den, maybe he got sense ernuf ter 
keep the fool thing straight. 

Nell — Say, Mammy, he brought a fine lookin' nig- 
ger back with him. 

Mammy — Wus dat er nigger ridin' in dat car ? He 

34 



ought ter be ershamed er heself. I thought niggers 
had more sense dan dat. 

Nell — I think it would be nice ter ride in er car 
with Mr. Carpenter. 

Mammy — Honey, why done yer set up ter Mr. 
Carpenter? You'se purty ernuf. Mebbe he'd take 
er lackin' ter yer, en you'd marry him, en take me 
ter NOO YAWK ter lib wid yer. Now, I'se talkin' 
sense. 

Nell — Oh, no, Mammy. Mr. Carpenter is the 
nicest man I ever saw, but he has a sweetheart. He 
tole me so. En he loves her lots. 

Mammy — Oh, er cose. But smart folks lack him 
changes der minds, honey. 

Nell — Mammy, I"m not fit to be his wife. His 
people would laugh at me, en I'd be miserable. Be- 
sides, I love Bill. He is of my people and will make 
me happy. Bill is goin' ter work fur Mr. Carpenter 
en get er big salary. En say. Mammy, Bill en me is 
goin' ter git married. 

Mammy — Dat's right, honey, stick ter de folks yer 
wus raised wid. I'd jest as soon lib wid yer en Mr. 
Bill any how. I'l wash de close, en make de bestest 
biscuits, en, en, look atter de — (Folds arms and 
moves them as if holding ,i baby, crooning "By-o- 
baby buntin' ") Shut up, yo' lil rascal. (Nell hides 
her face in her arms embarrassed.) Dar, now, honey 
chile. Ole black Mammy didn't mean no harm. (En- 
ter Bill, L., gun on shoulder.) O Lawd, he dun 
heard it all. 

Bill — (Pleasantly.) Hello, Nell and Mammy. 
How in Sam Hill do you 'spect me ter kill any 
squirls en you two making so much noise? 

Mammy — I wus jest tellin' her — (Nell stops her 
mouth with hand.) I ain't er goin' ter tell him, 
honey. 

Nell — (Reaching for Bill's gun, and laughing.) 
If you do I'll shoot you. 

Bill — What is it, Mammy? I bet you two have 
been planning a joke on me. 

Nell — Say a word, ef you dare. 

Mammy — I ain't er goin* ter tell him nuffin'. He 
will know later en soon ernuf. Yes, it war er joke, 
Mr. Bill, but we all got ter git uset to derm. (Picks 
up bucket and pole and starts R.) I'se tired mon- 

35 



keyin' wid you chil'n. I'se goin' on fishin'. (Leaves 
stage singing "Swing Low, Sw ^et Chariot," walking 
slowly, and when leaving change to "By-o-Baby 
Buntin'," looking back over shoulder.) 

Bill — Don't mind her, Nell. She don't mean no 
harm. 

Nell — Bill, I'm so happy. 

Bill — You are the best little girl in the world, 
Nell. You make me want ter be a bigger fellow. 
(They sit on rocks, Nell at his feet.) 

Nell — I know you love me. Bill. 

Bill — Jest all my heart will let me. Little girl, 
Mr. Carpenter says as how he wants me ter be his 
foreman on the big place here, en savs he will give 
me er HUNDERD DOLLARS ER MONTH. 

Nell — Mr. Carpenter is er kind man, ain't he? 

Bill — I never seen anybody jest lack him. He's 
rich en edicated, but 'he makes hissef jest lack us 
mountain folks. En he lacks you, too, Nell. He tole 
me you wus the right kind. En when I tole him you 
wus my gal, he grabbed me by the hand en said as 
how he wanted ter con, con, con, glomerate me, or 
sum-pin' lack tat. En he said when a man can claim a 
pure woman's love, 'he otter be happy. When he 
said hit he looked sad en hurt, lack he had knowed 
some gal who didn't give him a pure love, sich as you 
are givin' me, Nell. En I'm so rough, en pore, en 
unedicated. 

Nell — You are good en true, Bill, en hit counts 
with me fer more'n money. Mr. Carpenter read me 
er book one time, which said as how there wus two 
kinds of love — money-love en heart-love. Mine is 
heart-love, Bill. 

Bill — I know you love me, little girl. En we ought 
ter git married. This morn'n' Mr. Carpenter give 
the big boss er paper en said hit was a plan for the 
foreman's cottage. Hit's ooin' ter be built out er 
stone en heated from the big buildin'. Hit's fur me 
and you, Nell. Will you marry me? (Nell is silent, 
head bowed on Bill's knee.) Don't you want ter, 
Nell? Don't yer love good ernuff? Yer love these 
old hills en streams — en the little fishes that play in 
them. Yer love the little flowers that grow way up 
on the rocks, en can clam and get em lack er squirrel. 
Yer love the leaves when frost has turned them all 

36 



sorts er colors, some yallow, en green en gold, en 
they make er carpet fur yer ramblin' feet. Yer love 
the morn' when the birds are singin', en evenin', 
when the stars are shinin', en I'll keep you here to 
love em still. (Lifts her face.) I cain't read er book, 
but deep in yer tear-filled eves I kin read more n 
books kin hold. You ain't never kissed me, Nell. 
How much longer have I got +er wait? (Nell offers 
a kiss, which, of course, he takes. Enter Mammy 
singing "By-o-Baby Buntin','' and pretending she 
does not see them.) 

Mammy — Ain't yer shamed ! 

Bill — Mammy, Nell is goin' ter marry me. 

Mammy — Yer ain't tole me nuffin'. She done tole 
me hersef. (Car is heard off L.) Lawd, dar cum 
dat umbilicus ergin. 

Bill — Hit's Mr. Carpenter en he's comin' heah. 

Mammy — Doggone ef he ain't. He done cum. 
(Enter Howard and Grins.) 

Howard — Why, hello, Nell and Bill. (All shake 
hands, except Mammy and Grins.) 

Nell — Howdy, Mr. Carpenter. Glad ter see you 
back. 

Howard — Glad to be back, thank you. And there 
is Mammy. 

Mammy — (On extreme R , draws herself up.) I 
thought yer'd see ME. 

Howard — Why, of course, I'd see you. I've been 
right hungry for some of your good Southern bis- 
cuits. 

Mammy — I jest guess I kin make de bestest bis- 
cuits er any nigger in dis neck er de woods. 

Nell — You musn't brag on yersef, Mammy. 

Mammy — I ain't er braggin'. Jest tellin' de truf. 

Bill — That's right. Stick to it, Mammy. 

Howard — Grins, come round here. I want you 
to meet Aunt Laura. Aunt Laura, this is Grins. I 
hope you will be friends. 

Grins — (Who has been standing back, hat in 
hand.) Glad ter meet you, Miss Laura. (Bows low.) 

Mammy — Yer ought ter be. 

Grim— -Well, ef I is, dat's alright, ain't it? 

Mammy — Er cose. Cum ober heah en sit wid me, 
Mr. Grins. (Sits on rock and makes room for Grins.) 



37 



Grins — Massar 'Oward. I'se er gwine. (Crosses 
over and sits close beside her.) 

Howard — (Taking kodak in hand.) That would 
make a fine picture. 

Mammy — Ho, ho, hold on, clar, Massar 'Oward. 
What you doin'? 

Howard — Why, I want a picture of you and Grins 
sitting there on the rock. You don't care, do you? 

Mammy — Dat pends as ter how yer gits hit. What 
am dat thing you pintin' at me? 

Howard — This is a Kodak. There is a sensitized 
plate — 

Mammy — Don't pint dat sensible plate at me, EF 
YOU PLEASE. 

Grins — Why, hit won't hurt you, Miss Laura. 

Howard — You just look right in here, and I ex- 
pose you to the plate and — 

Mammy — You jest 'swell put dat thing back whar 
you got hit, fur I ain't er goin' ter be SPOSED. 

Grins — Yes, do, Miss Laura. I wants er pictur er 
I en you, ter take back ter Noo York wid me. 

Mammy — Well, den. But be careful, Massar 
'Oward. 

Howard — Now, look pleasant, while I — 

Mammy — Ho, ho, hold on, dar ergin. I'se willin', 
but dar is er question I wants ter ax. Is my ole man 
er goin' ter see how close I'se er sittin' to dis nigger \ 
(Grins springs away.) 

Grins — What ole man ? 

Howard — No, I won't let him see it. 

Mammy — Well, den. Cum on back heah, Mr. 
Grins. 

Howard — Now be right still a minute. Ah— 
thank you. I have it. 

Mammy — Hit didn't hurt er bit. But ef my ole 
man eber sees dat picture, dar'l be sumpin' doin' in 
de fur business, I bound yer. 

Howard — I am on my way down to the falls. Bill. 
If you and Nell will go with me, I will show yon 
some real gold. 

Bill — I must go back up to the buildin' er minit. 
You en Nell go ahead, en 111 come on later. (Exit, 

Howard — Grins, stay here with Mammy, we will 
be back in a few minutes. 

38 



Grins — Alright, Massar *0ward. You go hade. 
I'se got all de gold right heah I'se er lookin' fur. 
(Exit Howard and Nell, R.) 

Grins — Miss Laura, I thinks you goin' ter lack 
me fine. 

Mammy — I don't know 'bout dat. I told yer I had 
er ole man. 

Grins — Dat's right. Yer ain't er goin' ter lack me. 

Mammy — I don't know 'bout dat, Whar duse yer 
lib? 

Grins — In New York, wid Massar 'Oward. I'se 
his man en waits on him. 

Mammy — Any colored ladies 'bout. 

Grins— NO-O-O-O. 

Mammy — Well den. (Sees kodak which Howard 
left.) Look out dar. Massar 'Oward lef dat pictur 
machine. You better put dat thing under yo' coat. 

Grins — (Taking it up.) I knows how ter wuk it. 
Let me take yer pictur. 

Mammy — You'se foolish, nigger, ef yer thinks I'se 
guin ter risk you wid dat thing. 

Grins — Oh, I knows all about her. I'se got ter 
leab yer sometime, en I wants er pictur ter 'member 
how yer looks. 

Mammy — Well, den. Be careful, Mr. Grins. I'se 
trustin' yer mighty fur. 

Grins — You'se in safe hands. Miss Laura. Now, 
look sweet, whils I git er focus. 

Mammy — Nigger, you take dat thing erway fum 
heah, afore hit FOCUSES. 

Grins — Why, dat is er part er takin' der pictur. 

Mammy — Well, den, dar ain't er goin' ter be no 
pictur. Massar 'Oward didn't haf ter have no FO- 
CUS en I ain't er goin' ter let you. 

Grins — Alright, den, we'll jest leab hit out. Now 
look pleasant. (Mammy poses. This work may be 
carried on ad lib. if characters are good, but do not 
tire audience. When finished, Mammy says:) 

Mammy — Hide dat thing, yonder cum er stranger. 

Grins — (Looks L.) Dat walks lack Mister Robert, 
but he got whiskers. Lawd, Miss Laura, he's comin 1 
heah. 

Mammy — I'se gwine down ter de falls. (Goes R.) 

Grins — (Going with her.) En I'se gwin ter stay 
right wid yer. (Enter Robert, disguised.) 

39 



Robert — Say, old man, whose car is that out there ? 

Grins — Dat's Massar 'Oward's cah. Duse yer 
want ter see him ? 

Mammy — I'll go tell hi in. 

Grim — We'll bofe go tell him. 

Robert — No, never mind. I'll stroll here in the 
mountains until he comes back. 

Grins — No, sah, we'l go tell him. 

Robert — Stop! I don't want you to. You both 
go back this way. 

Grins — Say, Mistah, ain't yer Mr. Robert. 

Robert— NAW. 

Grins — Yes, yer is. (Looking at him closely.) 
Yes, yer is. What yer want ter skeer de ole nigger 
lack dat fur? 

Robert — (Drawing gun, which frightens negroes.) 
(Ener Bill, L., gun in hand.) If you don't go back 
to the settlement, like I tell you, I will fill both of 
you full of lead. 

Bill— I say, stranger (QUTCKL1), GIVE ME 
THAT GUN ! (Robert hands revolver over.) Now 
give me a real good reason why they ought ter go 
back to the settlement. 

Robert — (Pleasantly.) O, now, my friend, I was 
just having some fun out of them. I wouldn't hurt 
either for anything. 

Bill — (Handing him revolver.) Then excuse me. 
I didn't know. You see, here in the mountains we 
believe in fair play. Never two agin one, or one 
ergin two. Jest fair play. 

Grins — I'se er gwin ter tell Massar 'Oward you 
cum. Cum on, Miss Laura, I'se erfeard ter leab yer 
heah widout de pertection uv er genman. (Exit 
Grins and Mammy, R.) 

Bill — Do you know Mr. Carpenter? 

Robert — Well, I've seen him a few times. Where 
is he stopping here in the mountains? 

Bill — Up thar at my gal's house. Nell Toones. 
He's er fine fellow. 

Robert — (Aside.) I'll make him jealous, and he'll 
kill him for me. (To Bill.) O, I see? That is just 
like Mr. Carpenter. He often strays off to some 
pretty girl's house and plays up some great scheme 
to her parents. Gets the girl in love with him and 
for awhile takes her away from some good honest 

40 



fellow who loves her. Then fends her back home to 
weep on the shoulders of her first love. 

Bill — Ye're purtv smart fellow, ain'it yer. That's 
comin' purty stout. Kinder slow down on hit er 
bit. 

Robert — Yes, it's pretty stout, but that is the only 
way to put it. 

Bill — I don't believe he'd do sich er thing as that, 
but ef he would, the gal up thar wouldn't let him. 
You go learn something 'bout er mountain girl. 

Robert — O, they are pretty, have fine figures and 
all that. But that is the only kind he likes. 

Bill — I like 'em, too, stranger. They are purty, 
en have roses in their cheeks, en then some. They 
are as pure as the air they breathe, en as solid as the 
rocks they play on. En when one tells you she will 
be true, stake your life on hit, stranger, fur she is 
all she says she is. 

Robert — Alright. You go on dreaming about 
your Nell, and you will wake up some fine morning 
to find her gone. 

Bill— .STOP ! You are insultin' me. I've let you 
go too fur already. (Pulling off coat.) I don't 
like ter fight, but Nell's my fightin' pint. 

Robert — Now, my friend, you are not going to 
misunderstand me like that, I know. Your girl is all 
you say she is, but that does not make the man a 
gentleman. I thought you might not know this fel- 
low, and I wanted you to be on guard. He might 
mistreat her, and you would want to be close by. 

Bill — If he or anybody els^ mistreats Nell Toone, 
he pays me with his life. 

Robert — (Aside.) He's my man. (To Bill.) As 
I came up the mountain I thought I saw a man and 
woman way down yonder alone in the secrecy of the 
rocks. Who was that ? 

Bill — That was Mr. Carpenter and my sweetheart. 

Robert — My friend, don't be angry with me be- 
cause I have cautioned you, but I beg you not to 
permit them to be alone in this way. 

Bill — I'm not af eared. (Robert looks, E.) 

Robert — Look ! I see them now. (Bill looks care- 
lessly at first, gradually falling into the trap.) See 
how close he leans to her ear, See how she gazes up 
at the mountain side. He i? pouring a tale of love 

41 



into her ear, such as you never heard. Look at his 
arm. 

Bill — Isn't it on the rock behind her? 

Robert — Yes, it is on the rook behind her, but soon 
it will encircle her. 

Bill— (In a fury.) I'll oil him. (Robert stops 
him.) 

Robert — Not now. You might kill your girl. They 
are coming. Let's hide until they are closer. (Both 
exit, L. Enter Nell and Howard, R.) 

Nell — That was a great plan you were telling me, 
Mr. Carpenter, en hit makes me mighty happy. We 
are goin' ter remember always how good you are to 
us. (Enter Bill and Robert, L., and listen.) 

Howard — Are you sure you love well enough to 
get married. It is a very serious matter. 

Nell — O, my love is alright. I can learn how ter 
be a good wife. (Bill examines locks of gun.) 

Bill — Death is too good fur him. 

Howard — I'm going to do all I can to make you 
happy, Nell. Bill is a nob!e fellow (Bill lowers gun 
and listens intently) and deserves your love. 

Nell — And when you come ter see us, we will give 
you the best we got. 

Bill — (Rushes from behind rock, taking off his 
hat and saying with feeling.) Mr. Carpenter, I was 
mean enough ter steal up behind that rock ter hear 
what yer was say in' ter Nell. I'm ashamed of it, sir, 
and ask yer pardon. (Robert draws revolver and 
shoots Howard down, breaking to run. Bill levels 
gun he is holding in hands on him.) STOP! you 
infamous dog, or I'll kill you. (Hands gun to Nell.) 
Bring him back, Nell, I want him. (Nell takes gun 
and rushes out, L., returning immediately with Rob- 
ert in front of her and covered by the gun.) In 
meantime Bill has stooped over Howard and hastily 
examined him.) He has killed you. 

Nell—O, Bill, is he dead? 

Grins — (Enters hurriedly from R. Seeing what 
has happened, falls over Howard.) O, Massar 
'Oward ! Who has done dis ? 

Bill — He's bleeding to death. What can we do? 
Let's get a doctor. 

Nell-- Let's take him to a good one. 

Bill — Hit's fifty miles ter Chattanooga. 

42 



Grins — Dat car er his'n out dar '1 do dat fifty 
miles in fifty minutes, ef somebody '1 hole hit in do 
road. 

Bill — Can you run it? 

Grins — No,"sah, but (pointing to Robert) but dat's 
Mister Robert, en he kin. (Bill goes up to Robert, 
jerking off false whiskers roughly.) You mean, ly- 
ing, common yaller dog. Kin yer run er car? 

Robert — Naw, I can't. 

Bill — Don't lie ter me, or I'll pull yer blame head 
off. You tried ter kill hirn, now yer are goin' ter 
save him. Help us take him up (all take him up), 
en be as tender as er woman. (When off stage.) 
Take his head in yer lap, Nell. Crank er up, Grins. 
Now, stranger, to Chattanooga, en don't furgit, I'M 
BEHIND YER. 

(As curtain falls, try, if possible, to imitate a car 
leaving in a burst of speed, growing more distant. 
This is easily done with a motorcycle off L., by clos- 
ing muffler gradually. If this is not convenient, 
use automobile horn with g'.>cd effect.) 



ACT IV. 



SCENE 1 — Operating room, Chattanooga Hos- 
pital; thirty-six hours later. 

STAGE SETTING— Any plain white room will 
do. Two operating tables. (Your town physicians 
will gladly lend these, or if not, use two ordinary 
cots, with legs pieced out so as to raise about three 
feet. Cover cot with white sheets.) Small table for 
clean white porcelain pan for sterilizing instruments. 

Place Howard on front table in center of stage, 
feet to L., and cover with sheet. Absorbent cotton 
on right side of throat, colored red. Powder his face 
to show loss of blood. He should be unconscious. 
Nurse standing by table of instruments. 

Place other table immediately behind Howard, 
foot to right, and overlapping first table about three 
feet. Dr. Bassett sitting by Howard in close atten- 
tion. (If your town physicians will take these parts, 
you will find it a great advantage. If this cannot be 
done, ask their assistance in rehearsal. The scene is 

43 



most extraordinary and should be well rendered. Its 
effect is good.) 

MAKE-UP — Use dignified dress as much as pos- 
sible. If all the doctors are in Prince Alberts, the 
effect is fine, but if only a few of these coats are 
available, give them to Mr. Carpenter and Dr. May- 
ben. 

Dr. Bassett — (Holding pulse.) Be careful, nurse, 
to have everything in perfect order. They will be 
here in a short time. 

Nurse — I think everything is ready. (Enter Dr. 
Speight.) 

Dr. Bassett — Good-morn»ng, Dr. Speight. 

Dr. Speight — How is the patient by now? 

Dr. Bassett — He is losing very fast, but holds on 
miraculously. 

Dr. Speight — (Advances to table.) Is he mortal- 
ly wounded? 

Dr. Bassett — I fear he is. When he was brought 
in from the mountains there was scarcely a drop of 
blood in his body. It would have been easy to save 
him if we could have attended him more promptly. 
His wound is not serious bevond the bleeding. 

Dr. Speight— -Too bad ! Too bad ! Who is lie, 
anyway? He must be somebody of note, judging 
from the way the wires are being burnt up with dis- 
patches. 

Dr. Bassett — From papers found on his person 
and information given by his old negro valet, we take 
him to be Howard Carpenter of New York. 

Dr. Speight — Great Scott! How strange this is? 

Dr. Bassett — Yes, it is not often that we have so 
wealthy a patient in this hospital. We understand 
that he is worth about $100,000,000. 

Dr. Speight — If that is really Howard Carpenter 
you have there, you have named the smallest part of 
his real worth. He is the bov founder of the great- 
est hospital in the great city of New York and the 
best friend the poor and down-trodden have ever 
known. 

Dr. Bassett — Is that so ? I might have known. I 
have been so busy trying to s<ive his life I forgot the 
personality of the man. But I could not have done 
more for him had he been my brother. 

Dr. Speight — Has his father been advised? 

44 



Dr. Bassett — O, yes. We notified him at once, and 
received a message to spare neither men nor money 
to save his life. His father left almost instantly on 
board a special, and has with him the greatest living 
surgeon, Dr. Mayben; their family physician, Dr. 
King, and special nurses, and if they keep up their 
schedule, they will be here in a short time. My 
heavens, man, that train is setting the world afire. 
We heard from them at Philadelphia, Washington, 
Lynchburg, Bristol and Knoxville, with almost un- 
believable speed. I fancy I can see his old, anxious 
father feeding the engineer's pocket with gold and 
begging him for just a little more speed. But I fear 
it is useless. The last message advised preparation 
for the transfusion of blood. Do you think it the 
proper thing to do ? 

Dr. Speight — It is all that can be done. Dr. May- 
ben is a great surgeon, and has performed some un- 
believable work. I shall stay to see the operation. 
Have you anyone to give the blood? 

Dr. Bassett — We suppose! he was oh board the 
special. 

Dr. Speight — Perhaps so, but we must not endan- 
ger this young man's life by our negligence. Most 
any of the young physicians here in the hospital 
would volunteer if they knew who he is. 

Nurse — (Going to window.) The special is com- 
ing in now. My! but it is splitting the city wide 
open. Why do they let a train run so recklessly ? 

Dr. Bassett — There is money behind it, nurse. 

Nurse — Money can do a great many things, but it 
cannot defeat death. 

Dr. Speight — We shall soon know. How beautiful 
to have lived so that when the end comes, money and 
all other material things are counted as but cheap 
weapons with which to fight it. 

Nurse — They are clearing the street of traffic. 
There comes a car running like mad. Shall I stay, 
doctor ? 

Dr. Bassett — Yes, stay. Is everything prepared? 

Nurse — All that I know to prepare. 

(Enter Mr. C, Dr. King, Dr. Mayben and Alice, 
in heavy veil.) 

Mr. C. — (Anxiously.) How is my son? 

Dr. Bassett — Still alive, sir. 

45 



Mr. 0. — Thank God. Gentlemen, this is Dr. King 
and Dr. Maben. Let them have full charge. (Dr. 
Bassett and Dr. Speight move away to R. Dr. King 
hastily examines Howard. Alice goes to head of 
table and kneels. Dr. Maben stands aside, waiting.) 

Dr. King — There is no use to examine him further, 
Mr. Carpenter. It is my sad duty to tell you I never 
saw a living man further in the shadows, and I fear 
the end of this great life ir here. (Alice raises up 
and kisses Howard on forehead.) 

Alice — Howard! Speak to me. 

Mr. C. — Who is that woman? 

Dr. King — The best nurse in New York, Mr. Car- 
penter. 

Dr. Mayben — Do you think it too late for the op- 
eration ? 

Dr. King — It is never too late to try, doctor. 

Dr. Mayben — Mr. Carpenter, we have but one 
chance to save his life. This is by the transfusion of 
blood. 

Mr. C. — (Offering arm.) There, take every drop 
of it, sir. 

Dr. Mayben — You are too o]d, Mr. Carpenter. 

Mr. C. — (To Dr. Speight.) Send out for a proper 
person. I will pay any price. Be quick ! 

Alice — (Rising.) Doctor, will my blood do? 

Dr. Mayben — No, nurse, it must be fresh, strong, 
young blood, or it would damage rather than save 
him. 

Mr. C. — I shall not forget your generosity, Nurse, 
and shall reward you for it. 

Alice — The giving would be its own reward. I do 
not want your gold, Mr. Carpenter. This life is 
what I want. God gave it to me, and I claim ray 
own. (Disguises.) 

Mr. G. — (Surprised.) My God! Alice Kingsley ! 

Alice — You hate me, sir, and would not have your 
son indebted to me for such an office as this, but on 
the heart of a true woman, 1 swear that it shall never 
be used by me to influence him, if by the act, he is 
lifted up and restored to you. Dr. Mayben, there is 
danger in delay. This life you seek to save is fast 
drifting away from me. Let me reach out and re- 
claim it. (Bears arm to shoulder and thrusts it out 
to him.) There is blood. PURE, FRESH, 

46 



STRONG, YOUNG BLOOD. Take freely as long 
as my poor heart will pump it forth. 

Dr. Mayben — (To Mr. C.) Have you any ob- 
jection? 

Mr. <?.— How could I? 

Dr. Mayben — Then let's proceed. (Goes R. with 
Dr. King.) Prepare their arms, Nurse. (Exit R. 
Have two operating gowns ready, so that Dr. May- 
ben and Dr. King may take off their coats and get 
into them as quickly as possible, returning to table. 
In meantime Nurse has rubbed Alice's arm, as if 
sterilizing it.) 

Dr. King — Place her (Alice) on the table. I 
think I had better give you an anesthetic, Alice. 

Alice — No. I want to remain conscious and watch 
and pray. "Dear God, guide these skillful hands 
and raise him up." I am ready. (Offers arms.) 

Dr. Mayben — (Gruffly.) Hand me the scalpel. 

( Nurse hands instrument. ) 

(NOTE — This scalpel should be fixed as follows: 
Take a bright instrument and fasten along the back 
side a rubber tube filled with a red fluid, to imitate 
blood. When Dr. Mayben opens the arm he should 
squeeze it so as to allow blood to flow over Alice's 
arm in plain view of audience. Not working too 
fast. When the veins have been opened, connect 
with rubber tube, each doctor holding one to vein. 
After short space, Dr. King, who has been holding 
pulse, examines Howard's eyes and listens to heart 
beat.) 

Dr. King — His pulse is growing stronger and 
more regular. (Mr. C. is rejoiced.) 

Dr. Mayben — (Makes same examination and ex- 
claims.) He is saved. (During this operation nurse 
has been closely watching Alice. D^. King and Dr. 
Mayben proceed to bandage arms.) 

Dr. Speight — Let me say, Dr. Mayben, that is 
what I call robbing the grave. 

Dr. Bassett — Wonderful, wonderful ! 

Dr. Mayben — Thank you, gentlemen. 

Mr. C. — Dr. Mayben, and you, gentlemen, who 
kept him alive against our arrival, I cannot express 
my gratitude to you. Ask what you will. Nothing 
is too good for you. My eyes are opening to a wider 
view of life. I have never cared for anything but 

47 



piling up gold, not caring what suffering and want 
followed in the wake of my transactions. But I 
now publicly acknowledge to all the world a debt 
which shall be paid with interest. Howard's great 
work shall never want money again. That poor 
mountaineer who gave his last penny and would 
have given his life to bring my son here to you, is 
far richer than I am because he holds in his heart 
the satisfaction of having measured up to the stand- 
ard of a man in faithful and full service to his fel- 
low man. And that marvelous creature who lay 
there and gave her precious blood until she has gone 
far into the shadows, how shall I ever requite her 
love? I have no gold pure enough, no diamond 
bright enough, to offer her. Indeed, it will take 
something better than gold. 

Alice — (In faint voice.) If }^ou would requite my 
poor service, Mr. Carpenter, I ask that you take 
away the sting caused by that letter. (Hands let- 
ter.) 

Mr. C. — (After reading the letter.) The arch- 
fiend of hell, Robert Woolsey, wrote that. And for 
every sting it has caused your heart, his shall feel 
a thousand. Howard never felt that way towards 
3^ou, Alice. The night he thought you had married, 
the Prince, he talked to me as he had never done 
before. I shall never forget the triumph of his 
strength when he said, "She has been faithless, and 
it crushes me, but I love her, and, thank God, I feel 
no blame for her." 

Alice — Then he still loves me. Dr. King, when 
may I see him? 

Dr. King — In the morning, Alice. 

(CURTAIN.) 



ACT IV. 

SCENE 2— Howard's ward. Same. 
STAGE SETTING— Plain white room. Howard 
on cot. Nurse standing by. Dr. King by side of 



bed. 



Dr. King — How has he rested since I left him. 
Nurse — Just beautifully. He has been talking just 

48 



a little about a Princess, and how he loves her. He 
seems to have been disappointed in a love affair. 

Dr. King — That girl who gave her blood is the 
Princess of whom he is dreaming. When he awakes 
and learns the truth there will be no further danger 
of his recovery. She will love him back to life. 

Nurse — Was that woman his sweetheart? I 
thought she was a nurse. 

Dr. King — Ha, ha. She is a nurse. When I heard 
of this awful attempt on Howard's life, I knew she 
would want to be with him, so I went to her and 
proposed to bring her under disguise. Wasn't that 
romantic ? 

Nurse — It was good of you. (Howard moves.) 

Dr. King — He is waking. Howard! Howard! 
(Wakes him.) Howard, do you know me? 

Howard — (Slowly.) It i« Dr. King. 

Dr. King — Do you know where you are? 

Howard — No. I cannot just make out. Where am 
I and what has happened? 

Dr. King — You have had an accident and are 
very weak from loss of blood. You must be quiet. 

Howard — Does father know? 

Dr. King — Yes. He is here. 

Howard — Does Alice — O — but she wouldn't care. 

Dr. King — Nobody in all the world cares like 
Alice. 

Howard — O, Dr. King, do not torture me. You 
do not know all. Let me forget her. 

Dr. King — I'm a pretty wise old fellow, Howard. 
I know better than you do that Alice is as true as 
steel. 

Howard — Would you mock me while I am so 
helpless ? 

Dr. King — I am telling you the truth, Howard. 
You were almost a dead man. Fresh blood had to 
be put into your veins that 3/011 might live. It was 
Alice who gave that blood. 

Howard — Are you telling me a lie? 

Dr. King — No, can't you believe me? 

Howard — She was already a part of me, but her 
blood was not in my veins. Now I can never forget 
her as I should. I must never see her sweet face 
again. I love her too mu^h. She is another man's 
wife. You mean well, and you are my friend, but do 

49 



not say more. Sometime you will know why I ask 
it. Before she goes won't you thank her for me ? 

Dr. King — Why don't you thank her? 

Howard — It would hurt, and I have suffered 
enough. (Enter Alice, L.) 

Dr. King — She is here, Howard. (Dr. King and 
Nurse stand aside.) 

Alice — (To Dr. King.) May I see him? 

Dr. King — Be careful not to excite him. (Alice 
advances to cot.) 

Howard — I have just heard of your great gen- 
erosity, Princess Bavari, and I thank you from the 
bottom of my heart for stooping so low. 

Alice — (Stroking his forehead.) Do you think I 
have stooped so very low, Howard ? 

Howard — Howard! It sounds mighty sweet to 
hear you say my name again, and your touch thrills 
me as no other could ; but it must not be. 

Alice — Don't you know I love you better than the 
world ? Say you love me. Do not let me suffer this 
loneliness any longer. 

Howard — For pity's sake do not feed my hungry 
soul on such vain hope, or I shall forget you are a 
princess. 

Alice — I am greater than a PRINCESS, Howard. 
I am a woman in love. My heart is as free as you 
would have it, and it is yours. 

Howard— (Seeing the truth.) ALICE ! 

Alice — Tell me you will never doubt me again. 

Howard — Little girl, I was a coward to doubt you. 
You know I love you better than my own life. 
(Alice leans over and kisses him.) Though all the 
heavens fall, I shall always know you are standing 
true. (Holds up bandaged arm.) And through the 
years before us I shall never forget that your blood 
intermingles in my veins with my blood, and cours- 
ing through my heart Shall always keep it pure and 
clean. 

Alice — That is a sweet compliment. I am weak 
and faint, and cannot stay with you longer. When I 
am stronger, I will come back and sit with you. Be 
a good boy now, and go to sleep. 

Howard — And dream the old story of love. 

(CURTAIN.) 

END. 

50 



Lone Star 



By 

Oliver P. Parker 



Copyrighted, 1916 



Lone Star 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

ARTHUR FAIRMOUR — Wealthy Chicago Packer. 
MRS. ARTHUR FAIRMOUR— His wife. 
HELEN FAIRMOUR — His daughter. 
JUDGE SWIFTBANKS — Helen's suitor. 
JACK CARROLL — Owner of Lone Star. 
MRS. CARROLL — Jack's mother. 
ROSA CARROLL — Jack's sister. 
MR. GRIGSBY — Foreman of Lone Star. 
MRS. GRIGSBY— His wife. 
BLARNEY REDMON — A ditcher. 
HANDY — A cowboy. 
RIPP — Mr. Fairmour's butler. 
JOLLY— Helen's maid. 
Cowboys as needed to fill. 



ACT I. 



SCENE — Dining room in foreman's cottage on 
Lone Star. Afternoon. 

STAGE SETTING— Any dark room scene— plain 
furniture — small dining table rear center — chairs or 
stools, right left and about table. Doors right and 
left. (Mr. Grigsby seated on stool extreme right, 
mending a large wornout saddle which he holds on 
his knees. Mrs. Grigsby busy around table.) 



Handy — (Dress as cowboy and singing off left — 
approaching door. Enter when audience settles.) 

Mr. Grigsby — Come in, Handy. You are the only 
fellow on the ranch that's got nerve enough to sing. 

Handy — No use ter bleat, Foreman. I was singin', 
ter keep out er the dumps. Every man on the ranch 
'cept me and you has gone ter Amarillo ter meet little 
Rosa. (Sits left.) They tuck her pony along fur 
her ter ride home, and I got ten ter one says that 
pony's nose '1 be the fust ter smell home base. 
(Smokes or whittles.) 

2 



Mrs. Grigsby — I 'lowed all this schoolin' 'd make 
her fergit the ponies. And hit wouldn't sprise me 
if she comes snortin' hum in one er them otty-mo- 
biles. 

Mr. Grigsby — Now, Lucy, that ain't fair to Rosa. 
When she left the East she may have felt that she 
would ride home in grand style ; but when she woke 
up this morning she was in Texas. And when she 
looked out over the big, wide plains she changed her 
mind. How about it, Handy ? 

Handy — Shore as grass. Why, Miss Grigsby, if 
you lined up all the benzine wagons in Texas at the 
station ter meet her, and then out somewhar whar 
she could see 'm the cowboys from Lone Star er 
holdin' Cyclone ready fur her, I bet you my trigger 
finger ergin er empty cartridge the bovs 'd bring her 
hum. SHE'S ER CARROLL. And I'll be dad- 
limbed glad when she comes. It ain't been worth 
livin' since she went away. 

Mr. Grigsby — You say the boys 'd bring her home. 
You mean she would bring the boys home. 

Handy — Yes, or break her pony's durn neck. Ex- 
cuse me, Miss Grigsby, fur cussin'. Hit won't be 
long afore the cussin' cowboy is a thing er the past. 
Mr. Grigsby — That's true, Handy. Like the In- 
dians and the buffalos, he will soon be crowded out 
and live in memory only. When Jack changes this 
big ranch into a modern farm us cowboys that don't 
know anything but to ride a horse, throw a rope and 
pull a trigger, will be powerful in the way. 

Handy — What's Jack makin' this change fur? 
Ain't things been er goin' 'ter suit him? 

Mr. Grigsby — It is not that, Handy. Don't blame 
him. The boy is like his dady, and he'd keep every- 
thing just as it is if he could. But times have 
changed and Jack knows he must meet them. The 
time has passed when a man can keep twenty thou- 
sand acres of rich Texas land in virgin grass and 
live on its wild increase. 

Handy — I'm not er blamin' Jack. He's the right- 
ful owner and nobody's got any kick on what he 
does. It's fate I'm er blamin'. 

Mr. Grigsby — Well, I don't see what yer got agin 
fate. I think it'd be powerful nice ter have big 



3 



steam plows and big barns and waterworks and 
pedigreed stock and sich like. 

Handy — Wall, if them; pop-eyed Jersey oows what 
Jack traded a whole carload of good fat steers fur 
is any sample er yer dad-dinged PEDIGREED 
stock, hit don't suit me. Makes me sick every time 
I see 'm droopin' round like a weepin' willow when 
the saps down. One er them got out this mornin', 
and hanged if I could rope her. She ain't got nothin' 
ter rope. Give me fifteen hundred pounds er bone, 
and hide and meat, capped off with two respectable 
horns, and er wearin' a star on his porterhouse. 

Mrs. Grigsby — I wonder if Jack's er goin' ter 
brand the new cows. 

Handy — He ought ter have more respect fur the 
mark. 

Mr. Grigsby — Lucj^, bring me some more whang. 

Mrs. Grigsby — There ain't no more WHANG. 

Mr. Grigsby — You'l find a piece in the shed. 

Mrs. Grigsby — (Going right.) If it aint there I 
spose you will be sendin' me over to Bar-Plus for a 
string. Don't you think I got something ter do be • 
sides huntin' up strings for you to mend that old 
worn-out saddle! I'l be tarnation glad when the 
Whang Days iare over — and thank the Lord, hit 
won't be long. 

Mr. Grigsby — (Laying saddle aside and rising.) 
Don't trouble, Lucy. If you feel that way about it, 
I'l get the string. (Goes out right by her.) 

Mrs. Grigsby — What on earth is the matter with 
my old cow puncher? Lately he's been er gittin' 
round like he's er fixin' ter quit. It ain't like him 
ter be feeling blue, en showin' hurt, en thinkin' 'bout 
hisself. 

Handy — He's got er right ter feel blue when he's 
er bein' robbed of the job he worked so hard ter get. 
He's been er good foreman, Miss Grigsby, and jest 
'cause you never seen a tear in his eye ain't no sign 
his big heart cain't bleed. 

Mrs. G. — What are you talkin' 'bout, Handy Hud- 
son ? 

Handy — I'm talkin' 'bout how a cowboy feels when 
he's er bein' robbed of his pony and saddle with 
the rope on it. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Well, I never ! Is everybody goin' 



ter be invited to the funeral? All this sentiment 
makes me sick and I'll be glad when the thing is 
over. (Enter Grigsby, right, with long string of 
whang. Takes saddle across lap and mends it.) 

Mr. Grig shy — Lucy, that's the first time you ever 
complained at doin' what I asked you, and I'm sorry 
this old saddle was the cause for it. 

Mrs. Grigsby — I didn't know I was complainin', 
Grigs. I am rushin' to git up to the house to help 
Miss Carroll with the dinner she's er fixin' for Eosa 
and the boys. Brace up, old man, and fergit the old 
saddle. 

Mr. Grigsby — I can never forget this old saddle, 
Lucy. I've lived my life in it on the big wide plains 
— taking no advantage and giving none. It has been 
my friend and I cannot cast it aside without a feel- 
ing of sadness. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Why, Griggs, I never seen you pout 
like this before. You talk 'bout yer heart bleedin' 
jest like a poet. You alius said hit was for women 
ter whine, and for men to be big and brave. What 
would Jack say if he knew how hard you are takin' 
his big plans? 

Mr. Grigsby — I don't think he would laugh at me 
as you are. Deep down in his heart he is bound ter 
feel bad. 

Mrs. Grigsby — If he feels that way why does he 
do it? 

Mr. Grigsby — He knows it must come, and just 
wants to get it over and done with. Didn't I see 
how he looked out over the prairie that day he came 
back from college and we were riding over the 
ranch ? And don't I know his eyes were searching 
for the glory that has been fading ever since the 
ending of this great life set in? Jack's a cowboy, 
Lucy, bred and trained, and he can't go back on his 
country. 

Handy — Jest what I'd er said if I had a knowed 
how. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Grigsby is in the dumps, alright, 
and I'm a-thinkin' he will turn out ter be a preacher. 
_ Mr. Grigsby — I'm not good enough for that. I've 
lived too close to nature not to understand that the 
best only is good enough for her God. (Sets saddle 
out on knees.) There, now, my old friend, I've got 



3 T ou on your pegs again, and j^ou are good for many 
years more in this new civilization of Lucy's. I wish 
you and I might end our days and nights roaming 
these big wide acres — but fate says it cannot be. 
When I'm gone you will be but a relic for the new- 
comers to wonder at. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Stanley Grigsby ! If you don't git 
that pesky old saddle out to the bunk house and 
leave hit and your poetry out there, I'll be sendin' 
fur the doctor. If you got ter be a fool you got to 
git out by yourself. ' Take the old saddle to the sta- 
bles and cry over hit as much as you please — jest so 
you git out er my sight, I despise the ugly old thing 
and will be tarnation glad when the last one rots. 

Mr. Grigsby — (Taking the saddle up and letting 
it ride his arm.) Alright, Lucy. You may be right. 
But, somehow, I feel stranger and deeper this morn- 
ing than I ever did in my life before. Maybe if I 
had always given my feelings a show they wouldn't 
have heaped up so high and all come out at once. 
I'l take it away and try to forget. 

Mrs. Grigsby— ^Fergit! Fergit what! 

Mr. Grigsby — O, nothing, little woman — except 
how I worked and saved to buy this saddle. How it 
helped me to work myself up to foreman of the big- 
gest ranch in Texas. How I rode it across the miles 
to be close to you and plead for your love. And how 
happy I was riding it back across the miles ponder- 
ing how much I loved you. How happy I have been 
since then following my duty through thick and 
thin, and trusting this old saddle and my faithful 
pony to bring me safe at last to home and you. 
(Holding saddle up.) It's just a worn-out saddle, 
out of date and in the way, but tender memories that 
cannot change fill every crack and break in its old 
leather to overflowing. And when my time comes 
I hope I shall go from this saddle to God, just as our 
little boy did that December day when he was caught 
in the stampede that robbed us of him. I will take 
it away, but I can never despise it as you do. 

Mrs. Grigsby — O, Stanley, forgive me if I said 
anything to make you doubt my love. I have always 
tried to be your faithful wife — let me be that still 
and share with you the memories of the saddle. I 
won't be foolish ergin, or fergit that you are good 



and noble, and the biggest and strongest mian I ever 
saw. 

Mr. Grigsby — No, little woman, I am a weak man, 
but I am happier now that you understand. I will 
put the old saddle away as a relic of happier days 
and we will face the future together. 

Randy — (Blowing a tear out of his nose.) Danged 
if I can understand why a cowboy has always got to 
cry through his nose. (Horses heard running in 
distance.) Listen, folks. Here comes Rosa and the 
boys. Look, Gap, and tell me if she has forgot how 
to ride. (Mr. Grigsby places saddle on stool in cen- 
ter and goes hurriedly to window, rear center; oth- 
ers looking over his shoulder.) 

Mr. Grigsby — If that is an automobile she's rid- 
ing she's got her in high. Neck and neck with that 
thoroughbred of Jack's. Great guns! Look at 'm 
come! (Horses closer and faster.) 

Handy — (Excitedly.) Come on, Rosa. 

Mrs. Grigsby — She's got him beat. She's laughing 
at him. 

Handy — (Jumping on saddle in center and rid- 
ing.) Come on, Rosa! Come on, Rosa! (Etc. 
Plenty of noise and excitement out left center. Greet- 
ings, etc. This scene is effective if worked well.) 

Mr. Grigsby — (Turning from window.) Now, 
that's what I call living. 

Jack— (Out left.) You didn't ride fair. (This 
should be said very loud.) 

Rosa— Why didn't I? 

Jack — You hit my horse in the face. 

Rosa — Your old horse just hasn't got the wind, 
that's what's the matter with him. Tell mother I 
will be up in a minute. (Bursts in on stage, left, 
full of life and commanding the scene. Rushes across, 
and hugs Mrs. Grigsby.) Hello, folks. Are you 
half as glad to see me as t am to be home. (Ap- 
proaches Mr. Grigsby, hand extended for a shake. ) 

Mr. Grigsby — A heap gladder than a hand-shake, 
Rosa. 

Rosa — Alright. (Swings her arms wide and gives 
him a quick hug, jumping back.) I just wanted to 
make you say so. Why here is Handy. (Shakes 
hands.) Why didn't you meet me? 



Handy — I was afeard you'd come hum in er otty- 
mo-bile. 

Rosa — Not until I forget how to crank a pony up. 
(Sits on corner of dining table.) O, it's good to be 
home again. 

Mrs. Grigsby — I was afeard all that schoolin' 'd 
make you fergit us. 

Rosa — It didn't, though. It made me know that 
a fellow can't forget a thing he loves. Why, there 
is the old saddle I rode when I was no taller than the 
horn of it. I thought it was out of the scrape long 
ago. 

Mr. Grigsby — Like a good cowboy it likes to hang 
round the place yet. 

Rosa — (Sits on saddle.) Well, just let her hang 
wherever she pleases, if that is in my parlor, and 
when it passes from your hands I hope you will 
give it to me. It would make a dear old souvenir of 
my happy childhood. The saddle, and the pony, 
and the cowboy are losing the fight, but my memory 
will always hold them dear. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Now, Kosa, don't you start that 
memory business, or we will all be gittin' in the 
dumps ergin and take a cry. 

Rosa — (Laughing and going to Handy.) Well, 
I'd like to see what a cowboy tear looks like. (Holds 
her hands.) Come on with it, Handy. 

Handy — I can't. Every time I try to cry my nose 
bleeds. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Sit down, child, and tell me all 
about yourself. What makes yer so good to look at. 

Rosa — If I am good to look at it is because the 
happiness of being home again fills my heart and 
overflows to my quite common face. 

Handy — Yore face ain't common. 

Rosa — O, yes, it is. It is just because you love me 
and can't see my faults. 

Mr. Grigsby — In other words, "The spot-light of 
love has nothing to do with one's imperfections, ex- 
cept to make them beautiful." 

Rosa — Please say that again, Mr. Grigsby. I 
like it. 

Mr. Grigsby— (Slowly.) THE SPOT-LIGHT 
OF LOVE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH 



ONE'S IMPERFECTIONS, EXCEPT TO MAKE 
THEM BEAUTIFUL. 

Rosa— (To Mrs. G.) Isn't that beautiful? 

Mrs. Grigsby — Yes, child, but hit is jest the long- 
hand way of sayin' "Love's powerful blind." 

Rosa — But it sounds prettier the other way. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Wall, take hit as you will, hit's 
the same thing in the long run and powerful handy. 
Grigsby is edicated and likes the long-hand way. 

Rosa — He has always tried to conceal it, but I 
know he has studied. I hope sometime you will tell 
me of your life before you came to my father^ 
ranch. 

Mrs. Grigsby — I never asked that question, Rosa, 
'cause I was afeard thar was a gal back somewhar in 
Virginny what throwed him over and sent him West. 

Rosa — If that is so, I'm glad of it. Aren't you? 

Mrs. Grigsby — I reggin' so. But let's not dig up 
the rosebush what's bearin' sich purty flowers. We 
might kill hit. 

Mr. Grigsby — Let's change the cubject, or you 
two will have me fitted out with a romance I never 
enjoyed — or suffered, as the case might be. I came 
West because it called me, and I am staying here be- 
cause I love it. And that's the whole romance. 

Rosa — O, I'd like to stay and talk longer, but 
Mamma will be on in a minute. She took the car 
and let us have the ponies. She is getting too old to 
keep up with the boys. (Going left.) 

Mrs. Grigsby — Mighty glad ter have you back 
with us, and tell your ma I'll come up and help with 
the dinner. 

Rosa — Thank you ever so much. We will have 
one more good ranch dinner. (Meets Blarney at 
door.) 

Blarney — Plaze, marm, will yez be koind and tell 
me vare 1 find the For-r-remon ? 

Rosa— Who? 

Blarney — The For-r-emon. 

Rosa — I'm sure I don't know Mr. For-r-emon. 
(Imitates B.) But I fancy you will come nearer 
finding such a person on the police force in Chicago 
than anywhere else. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Rosa, he is trying to say Foreman. 



Blarney — (Gratefully.) O, thank ye, good lady. 
Thot's right. 

Rosa— Well, why didn't you say FOREMAN? 

Blarney — Because, lady, it takes sweet lips to say 
it loike yez do. 

Rosa — O, thank you. (To Mr. G.) Meesther 
For-r-emon, this gentlemon vishes to see yez. His 
name is Blarney. If he wants a job give it to him. 

Blarney — Thank ye, good lady. Blarney is right. 
Blarney Redmon. And I vant the job. 

Mr. Grigsby — Alright, Blarney. Name your job. 

Blarney — No matter, sir, just so it is followed by 
a good square meal. 

Mrs. Grigsby — (Placing chair at table.) The poor 
man is hungry. Let me give him a job that starts 
with a good square meal. (Proceeds to arrange 
table.) 

Rosa — Let me help you. What can I do? 

Mrs. Grigsby — Run down to the spring house and 
fetch some good cold buttermilk. 

Rosa — Right-o. ( Running off left. ) We will save 
his life and win his heart. (Exit left, Mrs. G. right.) 

Blarney — Ah, Meesther For-r-emon, I'm a-thinkhr 
it's the vomen God Almighty loves most. 

Mr. Grigsby — No doubt. Otherwise He would 
never have given her dominion over the kitchen. 

Blarney — Sure, and the kitchen is the smallest 
state in her principality. God made man of man}' 
good parts, but me thinks when he finished him and 
looked him over He found but one part that was 
entirely perfect — and that, sir, was the rib from 
which he made our mithers — God bless them. Wher- 
ever we go, and whatever we do, somehow they make 
life brighter. 

Mr. Grigsby — What brought you to the West? 

Blarney — (Lightly.) A train — as far as Kansas 
Oity, and then I walked. 

Mr. Grigsby — I mean WHY did you come ? 

Blarney — O, I beg pardon, sir. The papers in 
Chicago said a lot about a big farm you are going 
to make here, and mentioned some ditching. I'm a 
good ditcher, sir, and would like to help you dig 
those ditches. 

Mr. Grigsby — Alright — I will take care of you. 

Mrs. Grigsby — (Entering right with plate of sand- 

ic 



wiches.) These will tide you over till dinner, Blar- 
ney. Pull up and help yourself. You are welcome 
to our table. 

Blarney — (Taking chair.) Thank ye, and God 
bless ye, lady. Im awful hungry because I would 
not beg and could not get much work to do. (Sits 
at table right side to audience. Looks at hands.) 

Mr. Grigsby — Want to wash your hands, Blarney ? 

Blarney — Yissir. But if yez don't moind, I'll eat 
a bite first. (Takes sandwich and bites it.) 

Mrs. Grigsby — Go right ahead, Blarney, and don't 
mind your hands. What will you have to drink ? 

Blarney — (Swallowing with effort.) Sure and I 
will vait for the good cold buttermilk the lady's 
gone to fetch. 

Rosa — (Entering left with pitcher of milk in right 
hand and spring frog in left — held so that audience 
can see.) Here you are, Blarney. Fresh from the 
spring. (Holding frog to audience. Pours glass of 
mdlk for B., but conceals frog.) 

Blarney — Thank ye, lady. If it's as good as it 
ought to be, it ought to be moighty f oine. 

Rosa — It is foine. I am going to take a glass with 
you. (Pours milk and raises glass.) Here's to Blar- 
ney Redmon and his job on the ranch. 

Blarney — (Stands up quickly and raises his glass.) 
And here's from the bottom of an oold Irish heart, 
wishing he could tell ye how beautiful and good he 
thinks. ye are. 

Mr. Grigbsy — (While they drink.) Good! Good! 

Rosa — Ah, that is fine. Now sit down, Blarney, 
and let me wait on you. 

Blarney — (Passing sandwiches.) Won't you have 
some. 

Rosa — Yes, thank you. I've been hungry as a wolf 
since I took that ride. (Enter Mrs. G., right, with 
plate of pies. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Here's some dried apple pies. The 
kind you like so well, Rosa, 

Rosa — O, don't they look good! (Takes plate.) 
We'll get to them pretty soon. Won't you have some 
more milk, Blarney? 

Blarney — (Passing glass.) Thank ye. I'm very 
fond of milk, Meesther For-r-emou. It's a great 
blessing. (Rosa pours milk during this side talk to 

11 



Mr. G., dropping in frog so as to attract attention 
of audience, then looks into glass.) 

Mrs. Grigsby — (Coming up.) What is it, Rosa? 
Something in the milk? 

Rosa — I thought I saw something, but I don't see 
it now. 

Blarney — (Reaching for glass.) O, thot's alright. 
Don't let me make trouble, lady. (Takes glass and 
sets it down without drinking.) 

Mr. Grigsby — You had better watch that milk, 
Blarney. It comes from our new Jersey cows and 
I haven't got much confidence in them. (Takes down 
decanter from shelf or mantel and pours small tod- 
dy.) I never drink milk. 

Blarney — (Eyeing him closely.) You ought niver 
to drink veesky, Meesther For-r-emon. 

Mr. Grigsby — Why? 

Blarney — Pecause it diminishes the supply. 

Mrs. Grigsby — That is not whisky, Blarney. It is 
his tonic, and he is trying to work a joke on you. 

Blarney — Well, lady, as long as the TONIC holds 
its beads and color loike thot, and keeps the smell its 
got, the joke will work on an Irishman ivery toime, I 
tell ye. 

Mr. Grigsby — Hohohoho. Well, when you want a 
little joke (placing bottle back) you know where to 
find it. 

Mrs. Grigsby — Don't you want some now ? 

Blarney — I niver drink in the presence of ladies, 
O, ah, ah, O (coughs), except as a tonic. (Looks at 
Mr. G.) And I'm quite well now, thank ye. (Raises 
glass.) This buttermilk is good enough for me. 
(Starts to lips with milk and seeing the frog balks 
and looks steadily in the glass. Then slowly sets 
it down and tries to fish frog out with fork. When 
Rosa speaks he leaves off fishing as if aroused and 
pushes glass back.) 

Rosa — Are you ready for the pie, Blarney? It's 
just like Mrs. Grigsby — good as can be. 

Blarney — Yez, thank ye. But if the poie is good 
as Misses Grigsby it's not poie. 

Rosa — Then what is it? 

Blarney — Sure, and it's angel's food, and too good 
for a divil loike mesilf . 

Rosa — I like it. 

12 



Blarney— It belongs to ye. 

Rosa—O, you old flatterer. Why don't you drink 
your milk ? I thought you liked it. 

Blarney— £ure and I loike the first glass foine. 
It's so good (shakes fist at frog) I'm saving it. 

Rosa— There is plenty. Drink what is in your 
glass and I will give you more. 

Blarney— (Takes up glass and blows in it. Bats 
his eyes and blows again. Ad lib. Sets it down.) 
Very sorry, lady, but I have plenty buttermilk this 
toime. 

Mrs. Grigsby— What is the matter with your milk, 
Blarney ; is there a mote in it ? 

Blarney— (Holding the glass out to her.) Yds, 
lady, a divil of a MOTE. He bats his eyes ivery 
toime I try to take a drink. 

Mrs. Grigsby and Rosa — Bats his eyes ! 

Mr. Grigsby— (Coming up.) Are you seeing 
things, Blarney? 

Blarney— Indacle I am, sir; and it's moighty glad 
I be I saw him in time, sir. 

Rosa—O, look there, Mrs. Grigsby. See? What 
on earth can it be? 

Mrs. Grigsby — I can't see without my glasses, 
child. 

Mr. Grigsby — O, let me see the critter. 

Blarney— Want to see him bat his eyes, Meesther 
For-remon ? 

Mr. Grigsby— What is thatching, Lucy? I told 
you the Jersey cows would bring trouble. 

Blarney— Sure, and it's a MOTE, sir. 

Mr. Grigsby — It seems to be alive. 

Blarney— Sure thing. (Blows in glass.) See him 
bat his eyes? 

Mr. Grigsby— Hohohoho. I bet that is one of them 
new milk germs the doctors are talking about. 

Rosa— (As if frightened.) What did you say, Mr. 
Grigsby? DISEASE GERMS! Do you think I 
got any of them — I drank from the same pitcher. 

Blarney — (Rubbing his stomach.) Sure, lady, and 
I think not. I feel as if I got 'em all. But if they 
are all as healthy as this one I don't think they will 
hurt me. 

Jack — (Entering right, branding iron in hand.) 



13 



What have you started now, Rosa. One would think 
you were breaking in a tenderfoot. 

Blarney — Sure, and it's a divil of a tenderfoot, 
laddie. Want to see him bat his eyes? Holds out 
glass after blowing in it.) How's thot for goo-goo 
business ? 

Rosa — What is it, Jack? Mr. Grigsby says it is 
a fault of your new Jersey cows. 

Mrs. Grigsby — No more Jersey milk for me, Jack. 

Jack — My poor Jerseys must feel very unwelcome 
here. Let me see what the trouble is. (Takes glass. ) 

Blarney — Be careful, laddie, and don't let him get 
away from ye. We came very near losing him once 
a while ago; but, thanks to my good mustache ( or 
eyes), I have not now got him all py mesilf. 

Jack — Well, well, well, what a joke. (Starts to 
take hold of frog.) 

Rosa — (Catching his hand.) Jack! Don't you 
put your hand in that glass. 

Jack — O, Rosa, you have played with these things 
many a day. It's just a little spring frog in high 
society. (Holds frog up.) 

Blarney — (Eyeing it closely.) Is thot all? Well, 
it was a divil of a narrow margin he was running on. 

Mr. Grigsby — Hohoho. Just like you, Rosa, 

Rosa— What ! That frog ? 

Blarney — Niver a bit, sir. 

Mr. Grigsby — No, not the frog; but the joke of 
putting it in Blarney's milk. 

Rosa — Not guilty, am I, Mrs. Grigsby ? 

Mrs. Grigsby — Ask Blarney. 

Blarney — Ask the frog. I saved his life — now let 
him talk for me. 

Jack — How about it, froggie. (Holds frog close 
to ear.) He is trying to speak. 

Blarney — Choke him, laddie; choke him. I won't 
stand to have anyone croaking on me leetie Drosa. 

Jack — He is trying to say something about his pal. 

Blarney — (Feeling of his stomach.) HE'S PAL. 

Jack — Yes. Didn't you know this kind of frog 
always goes in pairs? 

Blarney — iFor the love of Moike, Meeses Grigsby, 
look in the pitcher quick. (Rushes round and looks 
in pitcher and glasses.) Not here, laddie. Tell him 



14 



he's pal is lost and there's no use to cry over spilt 
milk. ■ v 

Jack— (Goes to door, right, and lets frog out.) 
Run along, froggie, back to the spring house; and 
stay out of Rosa's way if you please. 

Mrs. Grigsby— That will be a hard job for him, 
Jack, if she really wants to catch him. 

jack — Well, I serve notice right now that if I 
catch any frogs in my milk there will be an evening- 
up for Rosa Carroll. Mr. Grigsby, who is your 
guest? 

Mr. Grigsby — I was so interested in that frog 1 
forgot to tell you. He is a ditcher, Blarney Red- 
mon, and wants a job. 

Blarney— -Sure, laddie, and the For-r-emon here 
has said he will give me plenty of work. Don't you 
want to larn the trade? In a few days I will have 
ye digging as fast as mesilf. (Slaps Jack on shoul- 
der.) 

Mrs. Grigsby— Blarney ! Do you know who you 
are talking to? 

Blarney— Sure, and I am talking to a mon what s 
not afraid of work. Loike mesilf, all he needs is a 
good boss loike the For-r-emon here. 

Rosa— (Going left and laughing, slaps Jack on 
back.) Now, PAT, dig all my ditches deep and 
wide and plenty of them. I will give you plenty of 
good cold buttermilk fresh from the spring. (Exit 
right, laughing.) . 

Blarney— Good-bye, lady. I will hold him to the 

Mr. Grigsby— Jack, I hope I did not take too 
much authority in employing a ditcher for your new 
work. 

Jack— Not at all, Mr. Grigsby. I will need a large 
force to carry out my plans. (Blarney begins to 
see.) Pick up all the good ones you can get and, 
remember, whatever comes, you will be my foreman 
as long as you want the job. 

Blarney— Holy St. Patrick ! And ye be the boss ! 
Pardon me, sir, for calling you laddie. 

Jack— -Yes, I'm the boss, Blarney; but it sounds 
good to hear you call me LADDIE. I hope you will 
never call me anything else. 

Blarney— Ah, laddie, and it's a lucky mon I be to 

15 



have such a boss. I'll dig all those ditches all py 
mesilf. 

Jack — Alright. In the meantime, run down to 
the stables and get that pair of broken breeching. 

Blarney — ( Scratching head. ) Breeching ! 

Jack — Yes. You will find them in the gear room. 

Blarney — I was niver on the faram before, and 
there is a lot Oi've got 4° larn. Will yez be koind 
and tell me whether BREECHING works on side, 
edge, top, bottom, front or rear? 

Jack — (Laughing.) Well, it doesn't work on side, 
edge, top, bottom or FRONT. 

Blarney — Sure, and I get him. (Exit left.) 

Jack — I hope the boys are easy on him. What 
would have happened to him if he had come along 
fifteen years ago? 

Mr. Grigsby — (Chuckling.) Don't mention it, 
Jack. Those good old days are gone. 

Jack — And with them a glory has passed away 
from the earth. Mr. Grigsby, when I think of chang- 
ing our ranch life into something else I cannot avoid 
a feeling of doubt as to whether we shall all be as 
happy as we have been here. I love the plains and 
the virgin grass, and if I could have my way I would 
keep them as they are forever. 

Mr. Grigsby — So would I, Jack. That old brand- 
ing iron would not be allowed to rust. 

Jack — (Looks at branding iron a short space.) 
The day of the branding iron is over, Mr. Grigsby. 
Its history is written, and sooner or later we must 
close the book. This is the only branding iron that 
has ever been upon this ranch. Its imprint has been 
worn by thousands of cattle that made my father 
rich in lands. He bequeathed it to me, and I am 
going <to take it to Chicago and have it cut down and 
plated with gold, and hung to a string of pearls. As 
it is in my keeping to be handed down to posterity, 
I think it would miake a beautiful engagement token. 
Don't you? 

Mr. Grigsby — A mighty pretty sentiment, Jack. 
Have you found the girl to wear it for you? 

Jack — No; but I shall sometime. 

Mr. Grigsby — When are you going to Chicago ? 

Jack — I leave tomorrow. Mr. Fairmour wrote 
that he would be glad to go into the matter with me. 

16 



What sort of a proposition do you think I should 
make him ? 

Mr. Grigsby — I don't know. 

Jack — Land like ours, with all there is on it, is 
worth twenty-five dollars an acre, isn't it? 

Mr. Grigsby — In ten years it will be worth twice 
that. 

Jack — Then I shall propose to Mr. Fairmour that 
if he will put up — let me see — twenty thousand times 
twenty-five— My ! That is FIVE HUNDRED 
THOUSAND DOLLARS. Do you think he will 
do it? 

Mr. Grigsby — He ought to jump at the chance. 

Jack — I hope he does; for I cannot make these 
changes without his help. 

Mr. Grigsby — What does your mother think of it \ 

Jack — She knows that father regarded Mr. Fair- 
mour as a very honorable man, and is willing for 
me to take the step with him. She feels that a man 
who has handled the output of this ranch for thirty 
years in such a way as to make us rich, is due every 
consideration. 

Mr. Grigsby — That is true. We have shipped his 
packing company many trainloads of good fat Texas 
steers, and he has always come up square. If any- 
body has got to have an interest, I think it ought to 
be Mr. Fairmour. 

Jack — (Rising.) Alright. I will go up tomor- 
row and talk it over with him. If he doesn't want 
to hook up with us, nobody will be hurt — will they ? 

Mr. Grigsby — Not unless happiness kills them. 

Handy — (Rushing in left.) That ding-busted 
Irishman has tangled up all the gear on the place 
looking for something, and has forgot what it is. 

Blarney — (Rushes in left, large bridle with red 
blinds in hand.) Sure, laddie, and here ye are. It 
was a divil of a chase I had for him. 

Jack — (Laughing and holding bridle up.) You 
are on the right trail, Blarney. Now find the other 
end of it. 

(QUICK CURTAIN.) 



17 



ACT II. 

SCENE — Four days later. Parlor in home of 
Mr. Fairmour, Chicago. Table front center — screen 
left — doors right and left. Enter Jolly with armful 
of books which she deposits on table — followed by 
Ripp with books. 



Ripp — Hi beg pardon, Miss Jolly, but Hi say hit 
is a bit unusual. 

Jolly — Yes, but it is for servants like you and me 
to do, and not to question. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. And Him questioning, 
Hi was thinking, ah, perhaps, it would be better to 
take this reading matter direct to Miss Fairmour. 
What will her father say when he finds it 'ere? Hi 
say it is a bit unusual, madam. 

Jolly — (Laughing.) When you have been in this 
household as long as I have, Ripp, you will know 
THE UNUSUAL is Miss Helen's long suit. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. H'already Hive noticed 
that. And jolly well hit becomes her. But, Hi say, 
Hi 'ope she is present when Hi ave to explain the 
presence of all this blood and thunder to her father. 

Jolly — If her father objects, just say, "Hit was 
Miss 'Ellen's h'orders, sir ;" and there the matter will 
end. Mr. Fairmour loves his daughter and delights 
in pleasing her. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. But, Hi say, Hi do not 
quite understand 'ow these Wild West stories can 
delight one of Miss 'Ellen's station. 

Jolly — That may be due to the fact that you, are 
English. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. 

Jolly — Also to the fact that Miss Helen is strictly 
American. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. 

Jolly — And between the two, 

I like Miss Helen's view. 

Ripp — I do not recognize the couplet. (Chin 
high.) 

Jolly — That may be due to the fact that it is Aimer 
ican. 

Ripp— Hit sounds Shakesperean. 

18 



Jolly — O, thank you, Mother Goose would be 
proud of that. 

Ripp — Hi will not believe your mother was a 
goose. 

Jolly — OH! Well, now, if it doesn't come easy 
for you, pray don't take the risk of forcing the con- 
clusion. 

Ripp — H-m. Ah, Hi was thinking — ah — 

Jolly— (Lightly.) O, you were THINKING, 
were you ! What a novelty that must be for you. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. Hi was thinking, ah — 

Jolly — If, indeed, you were thinking, pray tell me 
what. 

Ripp — Hi was thinking (working to door, right), 
ah — that Hi would not have to FORCE the conclu- 
sion that your mother was a goose. (Exit right.) 

Jolly — (Looking after him.) Outdone by a 
HENGlisnman. If all of them are like him, I do 
not blame Sylvia Pankhurst for feeling the need of 
a change of administration. (Arranging books.) 
Well, I think I have here about all that has been 
written on the customs and mannerisms of the West 
for one hundred years. (Reading titles.) The 
COWBOYS DREAM— THE RECEPTION OF A 
TENDERFOOT— THE FOREMAN'S DAUGH- 
TER—THE WINNING OF THE WEST— by 
Roosevelt. Yes, Theodore Roosevelt. This is get- 
ting interesting, but I should have expected Roose- 
velt to write on THE WINNING OF THE 
WORLD, or WHY PERKINS, or something along 
that line. And here's the RED MAN'S RENDEZ- 
VOUS— how euphonious! and EXILED FROM 
HIS NATIVE HEATH— how pathetic! HORNS 
THAT LOCK IN THE FIGHT— My, what a para- 
phrase. And this one is entitled LEATHER 
BREECHES — now, that is getting romantic. I 
wonder what this one is — Why, it is LONE STAR, 
the most popular book of the season. The one Miss 
Helen stayed home from the Bickford's swell dinner 
party to read and cry over. She won't need this 
copy, for she has one which she keeps as if it were 
the most valuable thing she has. I wonder why the 
book seller sent it along with this rubbish. Perhaps 
he thought it would leaven the whole lot. (Places 
book on top of others.) I think I have there about 

19 



what my lady desires — a pretty good assortment of 
blood and thunder, touched off with a little pure air 
and sunshine. And I sincerely hope she does not 
send me out again for Western Literature. 

Ripp — (R.) Miss Fairmour desires your services. 

Jolly — O, she does, does she ? Going right — turn.) 
Alright, 'E ATHEN ! ( Exit R. ) 

Ripp— 'Eathen! 'EATHEN ! Ho! the suffra- 
gette. H'id like to be nice, but 'ow can Hi? 

Mr. Fairmour — (L.) To whom were you talking, 
Ripp? 

Ripp — (Stands at attention quickly.) Miss Fair- 
mour's maid, sir. Hi was giving her horders. 

Mr. Fairmour — What ? 

Ripp — Miss Fairmour's horders, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, that is better. (Advances to 
table.) What is this conglomeration doing here? 

Ripp — Hit was Miss Ellen's horders, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — Then it is alright. If my daugh- 
ter wishes a few bronco ponies and cowboys, just 
show them in. 

Ripp — Quite so, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — Yes, quite so. And, by the way, 
I am looking for a cowboy here tonight. When he 
arrives show him in here at once. 

Ripp — Hi beg pardon, sir, but 'ow shall Hi know 
him? 

Mr. Fairmour — O, by his pony and pistols, of 
course. 

Ripp — Do you think hit quite safe for me to meet 
'im, sir? 

Mr. Fairmour — Quite, but I think you will find it 
convenient to do what he tells you. 

Ripp — Depend on me, sir. (Bows out, right.) 

Mr. Fairmour — To Mrs. Fairmour, who enters 
left.) If I had time and costume I would make up 
as a cowboy and have a good laugh on Ripp. My ! 
what an 'assortment of the wild and wooly West 
Helen has here. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Examining books.) It is ab- 
surd, preposterous, ridiculous, Arthur. She is crazy 
on the subject of cowboys and ranch life. She reads 
nothing else, talks nothing else, thinks nothing else. 
If this thing goes much further our set will bleat 
like a Texas steer every time they see her. 

20 



Mr. Fairmour — Do you think so ? That would be 
rather embarrassing to a beef packer, wouldn't it ? 

Mrs. Fairmour — But Helen could never see it that 
way. She would take it as a compliment. 

Mr. Fairmour — Why be disturbed over the mat- 
ter, Mary? You overlook the fact that I am plan- 
ning to buy and give her a half-interest in the best 
ranch in Texas. I am glad she is interested — it 
shows good business judgment. 

Mrs. Fairmour — I do not see the need for cultivat- 
ing a BUSINESS judgment in a cultured heiress 
like Helen. Already she neglects her social duties 
if they come in conflict with her folly. And she 
seems to have forgotten that Judge Swiftbanks is 
alive. 

Mr. Fairmour — Why, Mary, you are making a 
mountain of this little mole hill. 

Mrs. Fairmour — It is not a mole hill, Arthur; it 
is a full grown mountain in itself. I foresee danger 
in it ; and I think I might go so far as to say I have 
a presentment that it is destined to be the means of 
preventing Helen's marriage to Judge Swiftbanks. 
You have not been with her as I have, and do not 
know the extent of her folly. Why this afternoon 
she got out that little old daguerreotype Mr. Carroll 
gave her when she was but eight years old. You re- 
member the picture — Mr. Carroll's son — the one who 
is coming tonight, I suppose — dressed as a cowboy 
and wearing little leather breeches no longer than 
the brace of revolvers he was wearing. And the sil- 
liest part of all is that she wants to have it repro- 
duced in colors. 

Mr. Fairmour — Hohohoho. Does the Judge ob- 
ject to that? 

Mrs. Fairmour — No, My nephew is too nice to 
complain ; but we cannot afford to encourage Helen 
to do anything that would displease him. 

Mr. Fairmour — Leave off doubting, Mary, and we 
will let this love business take care of itself. It al- 
ways does anyhow. I do not see any reason for 
doubting Helen's sincerity. She will marry the 
judge alright — what makes you doubt it? 

Mrs. Fairmour — I'm a woman, Arthur, and I know 
her heart may lead her various ways. And, take my 
word for it, if Helen marries Judge Horace Swift- 

21 



banks, it will be due to your discretion and mine, 
<md not because she loves him. 

Mr. Fairmour — Now, Mary, you are Helen's step- 
mother and cannot understand her as I do. If she 
loves your nephew she will marry him as we hope 
she will; but if she does not love him better than 
anybody else, all the discretion of Solomon could 
not make her marry him. This business proposition 
of Jack Carroll's is another matter. 

Mrs. Fairmour — And it is taking precedence over 
your daughter's happiness. 

Mr. Fairmour — It is not designed that way. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Why don't you consult Horace 
about it? 

Mr. Fairmour — I have and he will be here tonight 
to write the contracts. 

Mrs. Fairmour — I am glad of that. She will see 
him in contrast with this cowboy. I have no further 
fear. 

Ripp — (L.) Judge Swif thanks is on the tele- 
phone, sir, and wishes to speak to you. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Going left.) YVishes to know 
whether the cowboy has arrived, I suppose. (Goes 
to left and turns.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — Here, Ripp, take this riff-raff to 
Helen's room. 

Ripp — (Hesitating.) Hi beg your pardon, madam, 
but hit was Miss Helen's horders to leave it 'ere. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Do you take your orders from 
Miss Helen or from me. 

Ripp — (Taking up books.) Quite humble hapol- 
ogies, madam. 

Mr. Fairmour — Ripp, I trust you will not again 
forget yourself and question Mrs. Fairmour's orders. 

Ripp — O, sir, Hi am all hapologies, sir. The maid 
said Miss Helen's word was law, sir. H'im sorry Hi 
believed her. 

Mr. Fairmour — If Helen ordered them placed here 
the safest plan, my dear, would be to let her order 
them away. (Ex. L.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — Such impudence! I shall have 
you discharged. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. Hi 'ope the discharge 
comes before the cowboy. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Going left.) He is coming now, 

22 



and I hope he shoots forty-five holes through you. 
Show him in. (Meets Helen at door, left.) 

Helen — O, is the cowboy coming? 

Mrs. Fairmour — Yes, dear. Now, look him over 
and compare him with the Judge. Horace will be 
here in a few minutes, and I hope you will show him 
every attention. 

Helen — You take care of the Judge, and leave me 
to entertain the cowboy. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Very well, then. I shall leave you 
with the wild ranchman. (Exit L.) 

Helen — O, if he is bad as that I will hide here 
close to the door, and look him over before he sees 
me. (Goes behind screen.) Ripp show him in. 

Ripp — Hi suppose this is where I get shot. (Looks 
right, front, right, ad lib. Is nervous.) But H'ill 
die game. (Exit right.) 

Helen — (Looking at little picture.) I will see if 
he has changed very much. 

Ripp — (R., followed by Jack.) Pray be seated, sir, 
and pardon my excitement. Hi thought you were 
the cowboy come to kill us. 

Jack — Now I am glad you told me that. It ex- 
plains why you got behind the door. I had an idea 
that you mistook me for a German. 

Ripp — (Stiffening.) Hi may be a bit nervous, sir, 
but I pray you will not believe T could be so very un- 
complimentary. 

Jack — O, certainly not. But why should you be 
so afraid of a cowboy? 

Ripp — Believe me, sir; they are quite dangerous. 

Jack — Is that so? Where did you get that idea? 

Ripp — Hi 'ave it from Mr. and Mrs. Fairmour, 
sir. 

Jack — I begin to see. Then they are expecting 
trouble here tonight. Why not call out the police ? 

Ripp — Do you think it necessary, sir? 

Jack — Dangerous and uncivilized men cannot be 
guarded too closely. 

Ripp — Quite so, sir. Hi'll say as much io Mr. 
Fairmour. Hi do not think 'e would take the risk 
of 'aving one in the 'ouse if Miss Helen did not wish 
to see him. 

Jack — And Miss 'Ellen wants one to play with, I 
suppose. 

23 



Ripp — Quite so, sir. And Miss 'Ellen usually gets 
what she wants — if imoney can buy it. 

Jack — Well, money cannot buy a cowboy. 

Ripp — Are they scarce as that, sir? 

Jack — They have always been so. 

Ripp — What a pity. Hi know she will be disap- 
pointed, sir. Pardon me, but Hi wish to call your 
attention to this literature. She has run her poor 
maid's feet off collecting it. Hit is all on the sub- 
ject of the West. H'im sure she will be sorely dis- 
appointed not to have a cowboy. 

Jack — (Picking up book.) Does Miss Ellen read 
these books ? 

Ripp — Mrs. Fairmour says to the neglect of her 
social duties, sir. 

Jack — I think Miss Helen is altogether sensible. 

Helen — (Coming out.) O, thank you, whoever 
you are. I am so glad to find someone in sympathy 
with my love for the golden West. I'm the Miss 
Helen of our garrulous butler's tiresome conversa- 
tion. I sneaked in expecting to get a peep at a com- 
ical cowboy and have some fun at his expense. 

Jack — I'm, ah, O, ah — a real estate agent, and very 
sorry I disappointed you. I like your informality, 
and am glad you are interested in cowboys. I like 
them myself. 

Helen — O, have you ever seen a real live one — 
walking about? 

Jack — All I have seen were very much alive. 

Helen — A chair, Ripp. (Ripp places chair.) That 
is interesting. Here is a picture of the cowboy we 
are expecting here tonight. Isn't it sweet? 

Jack — (Takes picture.) Well, I be da — (coughs). 
That is a counterfeit presentment indeed. Where on 
earth did you get this thing? 

Helen — His father and my father were great 
friends. 

Jack — Then his father gave it to you. 

Helen — You are a good guesser. That makes it 
good, doesn't it? 

Jack — O, it is the genuine article alright. Do you 
expect the grown-up man to look like this? 

Helen — Of course. I should know him anywhere. 

Jack — No doubt you will be able to see the favor. 

Helen — You say you like cowboys. Tell me some- 

24 



thing about them. My father is making a large in- 
vestment in a Texas ranch and is to give it to me. So 
I am soon to have control of a large bunch of these 
TEXAS RANGERS, and I would like to know as 
much as possible about them. 

Jack — I am sure you will find them easy for you 
to control them, but I hope you will be careful how 
you do it. 

Helen — Why be careful? 

Jack — There is danger. 

Helen — Danger ? How ? 

Jack — -Danger of them working their heads off for 
you. 

Helen — O ! That way. Why do you say that ? 

Jack — Because I was once a cowboy, and know his 
heart. 

Helen — You were once a cowbo}^ ! You don't look 
it now. Tell me all about them, xlre they rough 
and ugly like the books and pictures paint them ? 

Jack — All the stories and books flatter him ex- 
ceedingly. In real life he is a crude form of maa 
wearing leather breeches — -a flannel shirt — wide hat 
— bandana kerchief — two big spurs and a brace of 
good six shooters. Some wear a leather band on 
their wrists. Some a long mustache. They live 
longest who can draw quickest, and old ones are hard 
to find. Their hearts are strong, though hidden 
away behind their rough standards amongst the 
solitudes of their life. Touch them kindly and they 
become at once human and lordly, and go before you 
no less faithful than Una's lion. They know the 
spirit of the buffalo country, and inwardly hate all 
who would furrow and fence their native plains. 
They are truly children of earth and love its free- 
dom ; and nobody, my friend, but a cowboy can look 
up into the wide and open face of heaven and feel 
the friendship of the stars. 

Helen — (Reaching for book.) You are quoting 
from a book, Mr., ah, Real Estate Agent. Your ex- 
act language is right here in this book. I can show 
it to you ; for I know the book by heart. 

Jack — I know I am. The author of that book 
knows what he is talking about. Then you have read 
my — ah — that book? 



25 



Helen — Yes, and it is the sweetest story I ever 
read. 

Jack — Will you allow me to take this copy and re- 
place it with another? 

Helen — I have not read this particular copy. 

Jack — Then the one you have read. 

Helen — I don't understand. 

Jack — I think I would like to keep it. 

Helen — Do you know the author ? He uses the nom 
de plume, "Jack the Cowboy." 

Jack — I know him quite well. He boarded where 
I did while he was writing it. It was out on the 
LONE STAR ranch in Texas — and if I am not mis- 
taken your father is considering an investment in 
the ranch. 

Helen — Is that the name of the ranch he is going 
to buy and give me? How pretty. I may have an 
opportunity to meet the author. 

Jack — I am sure he would be glad to know you 
desire to meet him. 

Helen — If you get those compliments one bit 
plainer, I shall conclude you are trying to sell me 
some real estate. 

Jack — And so I am. 

Helen — Well, you won't succeed ; for I am at pres- 
ent interested in another deal. And before midnight 
I sincerely hope father will hold a half- interest in 
Lone Star, and the cowboys thrown in for good 
measure and my amusement. 

Jack — I hope you will not be disappointed in the 
transaction. 

Helen — I shall read up on ranch life and all of 
that. See my supply of literature on the subject? 
When I get through with that I will know a cowboy 
when I see him, alright. And perhaps find at least 
one heart that will be my lion. 

Jack — I am sure you will succeed in that. 

Helen — No real estate tonight, I tell you. 

Jack — You would not object to another heart, 
would you? 

Helen — (Laughing.) That is plain enough to be 
acknowledged — and declined. I am looking for 
cowboy hearts only. 

Jack — I trust you will find but one, and treat it 
kindly for the cowboy's sake. 

26 



Beten — O, how sentimental! Let's change the 
subject before I fall in love with you. 

Jack — You are very kind. 

Helen— Why 1 Not to fall in love with you? 

Jack — O, no. Not to get sentimental. 

Helen — Next to cowboys, real estate agents are 
most interesting to me. Am I delaying you ? 

Jack — Delightfully. 

Helen — I'm glad to delight you. Go on and tell 
me more about cowboys. What do they eat? 

Jack — Bacon principally, and sometimes, if the 
bacon runs low, they make a raid on a tenderfoot. 

Helen — O, how horrid ! And I have been secretly 
planning to go right into their savage teeth. Ugh ! 

Jack — Please take my advice and stay away from 
the ranch. 

Helen — Do you really think it would be dangerous 
for me to go ? 

Jack — Quite. Knowing the cowboys as I do, I do 
not hesitate to say if 3 r ou were on the ranch we 
would all be cannibals. 

Helen — Now you are laughing at me. 

Jack — And why not? 

Helen — (Rising.) You are insolent. 

Jack — Don't let your pretty eyes flash like that. I 
feel weak enough when they are less beautiful. 

Helen — I don't understand you. Perhaps my 
father will. Ripp, announce the Real Estate Agent, 
and let me know when the cowboy arrives. (Exit 
right.) 

Ripp — (Hand extended, chin high.) Your card, 
sir. 

Jack — It's the queen of hearts. Just say it is the 
cowboy. 

Ripp — (Throwing up hands as if to ward off blow, 
and backing out.) Don't shoot, don't shoot, sir, I 
pray. (Exit right.) 

Jack — (Laughing uproariously.) What fun it 
would be to turn that fool over to the boys. And how 
I would like to have that glorious girl out in God's 
country! Why is she keeping that little old pic- 
ture of me? Why does she love my book so well? 
I came here to seil her father a hali-interest in my 
ranch, and already I have given its owner away. O, 



27 



brace up, Jack, she is altogether too good for you. 
(Enter Mr. Fairmour, left.) 

Mr. Fairmour — Why, hello, Jack. Glad to see you. 
I would have known you anywhere — you are so like 
your father. 

Jack — Just as like him as I can be, Mr. Fairmour, 
My love for him never let me see anything but his 
good qualities. And I am proud to know that in ap- 
pearance at least I am like him. 

Mr. Fairmour — Your father's good qualities were 
abundant, Jack, and I admired him very much. I 
hope I shared his good will. 

Jack — Indeed, you did, Mr. Fairmour. Other- 
wise he would not have left the request that brings 
me here tonight. 

Mr. Fairmour — I deeply appreciate this expres- 
sion of his regard for me, and was glad to get your 
letter giving me the opportunity of joining you in 
the improvement of your splendid ranch. Before 
your father's death I proposed to him to put up 
money to change the ranch into a big stock and agri- 
cultural farm; but somehow he hesitated. I think 
it was a matter of sentiment with him. 

Jack — Indeed, it was, and I share that sentiment 
with him, but I realize the fact that the virgin prai- 
rie must pass, and so I am here to close a deal with 
you by which this may be brought about. 

Mr. Fairmour — I am glad of the opportunity to 
join you. What are your terms ? 

Jack — There are twenty thousand acres in the 
ranch. Do you think twenty-five dollars the acre 
too much for it? 

Mr. Fairmour — Does that include the cattle and 
sheep now on it — and yourself? 

Jack — That includes the cattle and sheep, and they 
include me. 

Mr. Fairmour — I consider the valuation satisfac- 
tory. 

Jack — Then my proposition is that you put up an 
equal amount of money — five hundred thousand dol- 
lars — to be invested in modernizing, we will call it, 
and be an equal partner with me. 

Mr. Fairmour — What salary will you charge for 
managing this enterprise? 

Jack — I had thought we would employ an expert. 

28 



Mr. Faimnour — We will employ experts in the va- 
rious lines, but they will need a manager. You are 
satisfactory to me — name the price. 

Jack — I feel inclined to say the compliment of 
your approval is ample, but perhaps I would stand 
better in your good business judgment if I should 
say about five thousand. 

Mr. Fairmour — You are very reasonable, Jack, and 
I have no doubt the laborer will prove worthy of his 
hire. I accept your proposition and am ready to 
draw the contracts, provided my daughter consents. 

Jack — Your daughter ! 

Mr. Fairmour — O, I forgot to tell you that I am 
giving her this investment. I want to salt the money 
down in your good rich land, so that no matter what 
stocks and bonds, and State legislatures may do, 
she will always have plenty to make her comfortable 
and happy. I shall make this investment in her 
name, and I hope she will make you an agreeable 
partner. 

Jack — I shall try very hard to conserve her best 
interests. 

Mr. Fairmour — Ripp, say to Miss Fairmour the 
cowboy (with a laugh for Jack) has arrived, and to 
come to me here at once. 

Ripp — (Bowing out right.) Yes, sir. (Exit R.) 

Mr. Fairmour — She has shown unusual interest in 
this matter, and has been anxious for you to come so 
that she may see what a real cowboy looks like. And 
I warn you against her disappointment when she 
finds that you do not wear leather breeches and a 
brace of six-shooters. 

Ripp — (Right.) Miss 'Ellen, sir. (Helen enters, 
R., playfully, and is bewildered. Jack laughs at 
her.) 

Mr. Fairmour — Mr. Carroll — my daughter Helen. 

Helen — Why that is the Real Estate Agent, Ripp 
said you had the cowboy coralled. Did he get away ? 

Jack — I am very glad to meet you again, Miss 
Fairmour. 

Mr. Fairmour — AGAIN, did you say? 

Helen — Yes, again. This ds twice I have run on 
this man expecting to see a cowboy — and twice I 
have been disappointed. HE said he was a- Real 
Estate Agent. 



Mr. Favrmour — In a sense he is. 

Helen — (Smiling.) He cannot be Real Estate 
Agent and cowboy, too. 

Jack — I am sorry I deceived you. I am truly the 
expected cowboy. 

Helen — I don't believe you. 

Ripp — (On extreme right, chin high.) Neither 
do I. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Firmly.) Ripp! 

Ripp — (Jumping as if punched in the ribs.) Par- 
don me, sir. The thought should have been silent, 
sir. (Bows out, right.) 

Helen — (Smiling and advancing, hand extended.) 
If, indeed, you are the cowboy, Mr. Carroll, I sup- 
pose I am happy to meet you. But I am frightfully 
disappointed, sir. 

Jack — If it is any fault of mine, Miss Fairmour, 
I assure you I am very sorry. 

Helen — Yes, you look it. 

Jack — You will recall how great a temptation you 
placed before me to learn what you thought of my 
kind. If I was rude it was the cowboy in me, and 
no intention of my own to treat you unfairly. 

Helen — (Laughing.) Well, you found out what 
I think of them, alright. 

Mr. Fairmour — Well, now, that is interesting. 

Helen — It may be for you and Mr. Carroll, but it 
is most humiliating for poor me. Why, father, I 
made him believe I thought cowboys were something 
to be laughed at — and — and he told me they would 
eat people. (Jack and Mr. F. laugh.) 

Mr. Fairmour — Ohohohoho. What a fine joke, 
Jack. Not very many people enjoy one at Helen's 
expense. (Jack laughs.) 

Helen — He laughs best who laughs last, Mr. Cow- 
boy. It is war, and anything is fair. 

Jack — Yes, anything is fair in, in, and war. I un- 
derstand. 

Mr. Fairmour — If you two understand each other, 
let us get to business. Helen, Mr. Carroll proposes — 

Helen — O, he proposes, does he? I'm sorry, but it 
is too late. 

Jack — It helps some to know that you temper your 
refusal with an expression of regret. 

Mr. Fairmour — Ohohohohoho. 

30 



Heleiv—Y^ if you can force yourself to believe 
I really do. 

Mr. Fairmour — Here, children. Let us have a 
truce. War and business do not go very well to- 
gether, and Jack says partners must be agreed. 

Helen— But I'm not his partner. 

Jack — Until you are we can never agree. 

Mr. Fairmour— Let us not forget our truce. I 
think you two will make a good firm. 

Jack— I heartily agree with you, Mr. Fairmour, 
and sincerely hope Miss Fairmour will accept my, 
ah, ah, terms. 

Helen — If you want to make terms I will consider 
them. 

Mr. Fairmour — Jack proposes. 

Jack— (Quickly.) Say "I beg to OFFER," Mr. 
Fairmour. 

Mr. Fairmour — Beg pardon — I forgot. Mr. Car- 
roll begs to offer you the opportunity to put up 
FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS 
AGAINST his twenty thousand-acre ranch, and the 
sheep and cattle now upon it — including himself. 
The money to be invested in the ranch, and you to 
be an equal partner with him. What do you think 
of it? 

Helen— What do I think of IT? Why I think if 
ITS ranch is as good as ITS nerve, ITS worth the 
money. How many cowboys do I get? 

Jack — Forty-two. 

Helen — Are they all like you? 

jack — No. They are the real live fellows — the 
kind you like. 

Ripp— (Right) Judge Swift-banks. (Ex. R.) _ 

Mr. Fairmour — Come in, Horace. You are just in 
time to draw the contracts. 

Helen— O, Judge, I want you to meet my new 
partner— Mr. Carroll, Judge Swiftbanks. (The 
judge looks him over coolly.) 

Judge — Howdy- do. 

Jack — (Advances affably, extended hand.) Very 
happy to meet you, Judge Swiftbanks. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Enter left and very pleased.) 
Why, good evening, Horace. I knew Helen would 
not be willing to sign a contract unless you ap- 
proved it. 

33 



Helen — O, certainly not. Mother, this is Mr. Car- 
roll. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Coolly.) Good evening. 

Jack — (Feeling the ice.) Good evening. (Bows 
formally.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — If he wants to sell his old ranch, 
Horace, make the contracts good enough to be in- 
herited. 

Jack — I hope you will make them very binding, 
sir. 

Judge — You needn't worry about that, my man. 

Jack — I'm not worrying, Judge. I simply want 
you to know I am willing. I will pay you well for 
your services. And if you don't mind, I would like 
to finish them as soon as possible that I may take the 
midnight train for the West. 

Helen — O, must you go so soon ! I think we ought 
to talk the matter over more at length. 

Jack — It would please me very much to do so, but 
it is impossible at this time. When the contracts are 
finished, and we begin work in earnest, I shall have 
occasion to consult you often. 

Judge — (Going left.) May I speak to you alone, 
Mr. Fairmour? 

Mr. Fairmour — (Going left.) Just a minute, 
Jack. 

Jack— Certainly, sir. (Exit Mr. F., left.) 

Judge — (At Door L.) Will you come, too, Miss 
Fairmour ? 

Helen — O, go ahead. I will come in time to 
sign up. 

Judge — It is necessary that you come now. 

Helen — O, very well. (Goes left.) 

Jack — (Pleasantly.) Remember, now, you repre- 
sent the firm, and the senior member at that. 

Helen — (Plavfully.) I am not as old as vou bv 
AT LEAST THREE YEARS. (Exit left, followed 
by Judge.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — We couldn't keep house without 
the Judge. Mr. Fairmour asks his good advice 
about everything; and by following it has escaped 
some very clever swindles. 

Jack — I imagine he is very handy to have around. 
I wish I had one like him. 



?2 



Mrs. Fairmour — Perhaps if you had a daughter 
like Helen you would have one, 

Jack — I thought so. But if I had a daughter like 
Helen, Mrs. Fairmour, I would not want anything 
else in the world. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Well, don't be discouraged. If 
Mr. Fairmour gives Helen half of your old ranch 
you will get the full benefit of the Judge's intelli- 
gence. And no doubt it will come in quite handily. 

Jack — I'm glad to find you so deeply interested in 
our plans. I hope the good services of the Judge are 
included in the contract; for I am sure we would 
soon run amuck without them. 

Mrs. Fairmour — It is not all necessary to stipu- 
late that he is to have charge of her affairs. As her 
husband (Jack starts) the Judge will have author- 
ity to protect her interests. 

Jack — As her husband ! 

Mrs. Fairmour — Yes. We are planning for her 
marriage in October. And the sooner it comes the 
better I will like it. 

Jack — I thought so. Has she promised? 

Mrs. Fairmour — How else should I know she is to 
be his wife? 

Jack — You might be guessing, Mrs. Fairmour. 

Mrs. Fairmour — If I am guessing, young man, it 
is my own business. And I shall make it my busi- 
ness to see to it that Helen does not secure any inter- 
est in your old Texas ranch. 

Jack — I am very sorry you feel so unkindly to- 
wards me and my old Texas ranch. And if you 
have told me the truth as to her marriage I sincerely 
hope you will succeed in preventing her father from 
making the investment. The peculiar circumstances 
make it embarrassing for me to withdraw my offer. 

Ripp — (L.) Judge Swiftbanks desires Mr. Car- 
roll's presence in the library. 

Jack — (Rising.) Can you endure my absence for 
just a moment? 

Mrs. Fairmour — Stay as long as you please, im- 
pudence. 

Jack— (Smiling.) Thanks. (Exit left.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — Ripp, have you been in the li- 
brary ? 



33 



Ripp — Yes, madam, and a stormy session it is. 
(Chin high.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — Tell me what the Judge thinks 
of the matter. 

Ripp — Do you want his exact language, madam? 

Mrs. Fairmour — As nearly as you can give it. 

Bipp — (Chin high.) Your pardon, madam, 'e 
thinks it a damned outrage, madam. 

Mrs. Fairmour — I knew he would be sensible and 
oppose this foolish investment. What does Mr. Fair- 
mour say? 

Ripp — Mr. Fairmour is a bit doubtful, madam, 
but leans to Miss 'Ellen's view. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Lips curled.) As usual. And 
pray tell me what is Miss Helen's view. 

Ripp — Miss 'Ellen says she does not want to make 
a doubtful investment, madam. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Elated.) Good for Helen. I 
knew she would be governed by her fiance's opinion. 
I had all my scare for nothing. 

Ripp — But she suggests that inasmuch as it is 
doubtful it would be best to go out and look the 
property over. 

Mrs. Fairmour — O, the preposterous idea. 

Ripp — She is coming. (Stands back.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — You may go. (Exit left.) 

Helen — (Left.) The Judge is absurd. He wants 
to command me and say what I shall do. 

Mrs. Fairmour — He is trying to save you from 
your folly. Be sensible, dear, and listen to him. You 
cannot afford to disobey him. 

Helen — O, I can't, can't I? You watch me. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Why, Helen, do be reasonable. 
How can you feel that way toward the dear Judge? 
Look at him in comparison with this cheap cowboy. 

Helen — I have seen him in comparison with the 
cowboy, and that is why he seems ridiculous. Why : 
he is insulting — says Mr. Carroll is a swindler, try- 
ing to rob me. 

Mrs. Fairmour — It is quite possible that he is. 

Helen — Then you, too, are against Mr. Carroll! 
Well, I see no reason for considering him anything 
but a gentleman, and until he is proved otherwise I 
am for him. Father and I are going to Texas to 



34 



examine the property, and I confidently expect to 
find it as represented. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Horace should go along with you. 

Helen — Not much. If he cannot trust me with my 
father he would be miserably in the way as my hus- 
band. (Ex. R.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — What nonsense! I hope my 
nephew will forgive her folly. 

Judge — (Left.) Aunt Mary, what does all this 
mean ? Like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky comes 
this ruffian to rob me of Helen's love. I see it on 
every hand. 

Mrs. Fairmour — It means, dear nephew, that you 
must be generous and let the silly child have a little 
outing, and trust me to bring it all out right. She 
will come back all apologies and love you more than 
ever. 

Judge — That is very consoling, but it does not sat- 
isfy. I have staked everything on marrying this 
rich heiress, and failure would disgrace me. Chi- 
cago would laugh me out of town. I have been de- 
pending on you, and I hope you will not fail me. 

Mrs. Fairmour — If you knew how anxious I am to 
turn her millions into your pockets you would not 
doubt that I shall succeed. 

Judge — The whole thing is unthinkable. How on 
earth can she be interested in this, ah, ah, common 
ranchman, and his old blistered prairies? The ab- 
surdity of valuing them at five hundred thousand 
dollars. They are not worth five hundred dollars 
and would be a burden to me at any price. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Of course you are right, Horace, 
but Helen alwaj^s gets what she wants, and I see no 
way out but to let her have her way about going out 
and seeing for herself that her cowboy hero is a com- 
mon swindler. Disappointed in him she will come 
back to you. What do you care, just so you get the 
money ? 

Judge — I shudder to think of the risk of allowing 
her to spend a week with these uncouth plainsmen. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Her father will be along. 

Judge— Yes— and so also this COWBOY. I do 
not think she would care to say goodby, so I bid you 
good-night. (Going right, meets Helen at door.) 

Helen— Are you going, Judge ? Goodby. I shall 

35 



write often (exit Mrs. F., left) if I can find the 
time. 

Judge — (Dejectedly.) Pray don't write, or even 
think of me — if it interferes with your happiness. 

Helen — (Lightly.) You are getting very mag- 
nanimous. 

Judge — O, Helen, I can't conceal my hurt any 
longer. You are crushing my heart and it is bleed- 
ing. (Advancing.) You know I love you and de- 
serve better treatment. Say again that you love me. 

Helen — You have made me say that until it does 
not mean anything. 

Judge — Say it once more. (Helen is silent.) I 
know you love me, dear. Promise me you will not 
take this foolish jaunt and leave me lonely. 

Helen — (Lightly.. "I could not love thee, dear, 
so much, loved I not freedom more." 

Judge — Don't play with me like that. If you are 
determined to trample on my love and advice leave 
me the sweet comfort of knowing you will be true. 
(Enter Jack, left, stopping at door.) And come 
back and be my faithful wife. 

Helen — It takes a lot of love to be a faithful wife, 
and I am afraid I should fail in that. 

Judge — No you won't, my darling. Promise me 
you will try. 

Helen — I promise — to try. (Extends hand.) Good- 
night. 

Judge — Good-night and good-by, sweetheart. 
(Exit E.) 

Jack — Are congratulations in order? 

Helen — (Startled and turning quickly.) MR. 
CARROLL! ... I am disappointed in you. 
. . . Were you listening? 

Jack — No, but I heard. I trust you will pardon 
me, and believe, it was a most innocent accident and 
carried with it quite enough punishment without 
your scolding. Your father wishes to consider the 
matter further, and so I came to say good-by ; but I 
warn you I cannot do as well in that line as the 
Judge. Please convey to him my most heartLESS 
congratulations, and if you decide to come out to 
LONE STAR bring him along and I will endeavor 
to show him I am not a swindler. 

Helen — Father and I will be there in five days, 



and I have no doubt we will find it much better than 
you have said it is. 

/adfe—Thank you. Good-by and jolly good luck. 
(Seizes her hand firmly and is gone. (Exit right.) 

Helen— (laookmg after him, then kisses her hand 
slowly.) The Judge thinks he has sat on this case 
good and proper, but I shall most assuredly appeal 
to a higher court, and in the Judge's own phrase- 
ology, have it issue a writ of certiorari— and if that 
fails to get results perhaps I can then proceed with 
a writ of habeas corpus ad respondendum. (Enter 
Mr. F., left.) Our train leaves the Rock Island 
station day after tomorrow at TWO THIRTY- 
NINE. 1 , 

Mr. Fairmour—O, I cannot possibly leave the of- 
fice at this time. 

Helen— ( Laughing.) Then we will take it with 
us. (Leaves stage right on slow curtain, smiling at 
her serious looking father.) 



ACT III. 



SCENE— Jack's study in his home on the ranch- 
ten days later. . . 

STAGE SETTING— Desk center, with chair be- 
hind it. Chairs conveniently arranged right and 
left center. Window back center. Doors right and 
left. Other decorations as convenient. Use wall or- 
naments to give scene college student effect, but do 
not overdo this effect. 
• TIME— Early morning. 

Mr. Fairmour— (Enter left, briskly.) Br-r-r-r. 
What would I not give to have that good cool pool 
in my home in Chicago ! Why, I feel just like a boy 
again. If I could get a good cold bath like that ev- 
ery morning I am sure I would live twenty-five 
years longer. 

Blarney— Sure and yez got a very poor bath, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour— Why do you say that, Blarney ? I 
think it was the best I ever had. 

Blarney—Not in my way o' thinkin', sir. Yez did 
not take toime from swimming to bathe. But 1 
would call it a swimming good swim, sir. 

37 



Mr. Fairmour — Then you like my swimming ! 

Blarney — Indade, sir, methinks yez would be 
handy in a shipwreck. 

d/r. Fairmour — Ah, Blarney, all men were boys 
once, and all boys love to swim. When I came 
here and found no bathtub in the house I thought I 
would be miserable, but when Jack showed me that 
fine swimming hole I knew I was happy. And I am 
glad you liked the way I swam. 

Blarney— Swam «-£ WAM ? ( Studies.) 

Mr. Fairmour — Yes. Swam. Past tense of swim. 

Blarney — O, sure, and I remember me now. Thot 
was when you dived. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Amused.) Yes, I swam when I 
dived. And I'm a pretty fair diver, don't you think ? 

Blarney — I THANK yez are. 

Mr. Fairmour — You THANK I am. What sort 
of grammar is that? 

Blarney — Well, now, didn't ye just say SWAM 
was the past tention of SWIM? 

Mr. Fairmour — I did. 

Blarney — Well, then, taking ye own worrid for it, 
and for the same reason, THANK is the past TEN- 
TION OF THINK. 

Mr. Fairmour — Ohohoho. You are mixed up, 
Blarney. It goes this way — Swim, swam, swum — 
Think, thought, thought. 

Blarney — Now I know what the Dutchman meant 
when he said: 

"Mein Gott, Mein Gott! Vot language is dot? 
Me cannot English sprechen ; 
Ivery toime me-thinks me's right, 
Be- damns, me vas mishtaken." 

But I will take the risk o' sayin', Mister Fairmour, 
thot for an oold mon ye are a swim-swam-swummer. 

Mr. Fairmour — OLD man! Why, Blarney, I 
don't feel like an old man. This few days of pleas- 
ure on Lone Star, with its pure air and sunshine, 
and that good swimming hole, and the contentment 
one finds on every hand, have given me a new lease 
of life. 

Blarney — Moighty glad I be thot ye go back to 
Chicago a better man, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — By the way, this is the day for me 
to go back to the city. Back to the incessant grind 

38 



of making dollars of the toils and tears of less for- 
tunate men and women — Money is a great thing, 
Blarney; but a good conscience is more; and far 
away and above either of these is the Christian's 
hope. 

Blarney — Sure, and I'd be sayin' AMEN if I was 
not afraid ye would stop. 

Mr. Fairmour — Let her go, Blarney. That is my 
climax. 

Blarney — Sure, Meesther Fairmour, and it's an 
oold mon I be before I larn that God Almighty is 
ivery where. 

Mr. Fairmour — Yes, my old friend, He is every- 
where dispensing good and perfect gifts to us, His 
ungrateful creatures ; and in Him is no variableness, 
neither shadow of turning. 

Blarney — Ye are a good mon, sir, and it's sorr} 7 
I be to see ye go back to Chicago. 

Mr. Fairmour — Don't you want to go with me. I 
like you and would be glad to provide a good home 
for you as long as you live. 

Blarney — I'd be glad to serve ye, sir, but I am 
happy here, and I should think a country that has 
made ye feel so much bether is good enough for me. 

Mr. Fairmour — I don't blame you for choosing to 
remain here ; but if ever you desire to make a change 
come straight to me. I need you to explain the 
meaning of my dreams. By the way, I dreamed last 
night that I was a care- free boy again, holding in 
my hand some mud from the bottom of a deep pool ; 
and the happiness it gave me is singing in my heart 
yet. What does it mean? 

Blarney — Thot's easy. If a handful of mud made 
ye iver so happy, I'm a-thinkin' thot a half interest 
in Lone Star would be all thot ye heart could wish. 
And I would say ye dream means thot ye ought to 
dive down into the bottom of ye oold pockets and 
buy some real estate. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Fumbling watch fob, and think- 
ing.) Find my daughter and send her to me at 
once. 

Blarney — Sure, sir, and she is gone with the cow- 
boys and leetle Drosa, and will not be back before 
eight. 



39 



Mr. Fairmour — O, bother! I forgot that. What 
time did they go? 

Blarney — (As if he meant it.) Schoost as the 
dawn drew the curtain of night and penned it up 
with the last fading star. . . . And let me say, 
Meesther Fairmour, the best that nature can do for 
a Lone Star sunrise is not any more beautiful than 
Miss Helen's face; and the dew when it was trem- 
bling at the first kiss of the sun was not any more 
like a diamond than Miss Helen's eyes — AS SHE 
GREETED MEESTHER JACK. Ah ! Meesther 
Fairmour, they are a foine pair to draw to — and 
THREE of them would make ye oold heart moighty 
happy. 

Mr. Fairmour — I must take her back home at 
once. 

Blarney — If ye really want her to marry the 
Judge, take my advice and tell Meesther Jack, and 
he will play fair. 

Mr. Fairmour — He knows it already. 

Blarney — Then I know what he meant when he 
said he was fighting two men's battles — one against 
himself and the other for the Judge. 

Mr. Fairmour — Let's change the subject. How 
did my daughter go? 

Blarney — Loike a cowboy, sir. A spur on each 
heel, and each heel in her pony's side. She has rid- 
den before, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — Indeed, yes. She was reared on a 
horse. 

Blarney — I thought so, sir. And I wish you could 
have seen the picture they made as they dashed out 
to meet the rising sun. Leetle Drosa with her golden 
hair streaming over her shoulder, leading by half a 
nose; then Miss Helen flying after her like a happy 
bird out of a cage ; then the coAvboj^s to guard them. 
And last, Meesther Jack, the best rider and noblest 
cowboy of them all, bringing up the rear on the 
fastest horse on the prairie — and one that none but 
a strong man can hold back. 

Mr. Fairmour — Blarney, why do old men like you 
and me detect a love plot so quickly ? 

Blarney — It's me rude way o' thinkin' thot its the 
wee sma' fingers o' cupid tangled oop in our oold 
heart strings, sir. 

40 



Mr. Fairmour — Have you a wife, Blarney ? 

Blarney — (Sadly.) Only a tender memtory, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — Any children? 

Blarney — Two leetle graves beside their mither in 
the oold countree ; and there my weary heart stands 
guard over them. 

Mr. Fairmour — I know from a sa d experience that 
that is a lonely watch, and none but a brave heart 
can endure it. 

Mrs. Carroll — (Right.) Good morning, Mr. Fair- 
mour. Are you ready for breakfast? 

Mr. Fairmour — (Rising quickly.) Why, good 
morning, Mrs. Carroll. Blarney has been so enter- 
taining I had about forgot breakfast; but I am as 
hungry as a wolf. 

Mrs. Carroll — (As if to go.) Then we will not 
wait longer for the children. I will serve yours at 
once. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, no, Mrs. Carroll. You are 
very kind, but really I prefer to wait for them. Be- 
ing hungry as a growing boy is quite novel for me, 
and I like to enjoy it — looking forward to getting to 
your good table. 

Mrs. Carroll — I am glad you found the plains good 
for you. It is not often we have guests who seem to 
enjoy them as you do. 

Mr. Fairmour — Indeed, no ; unless they are bigger 
than I am they couldn't. 

Mrs. Carroll — I'm sorry Mrs. Fairmjour couldn't 
come with you. Perhaps she, too, would enjoy some 
plain country life. 

Mr. Fairmour — I'm sure it would be good for her. 
And when she hears Helen's report and mine she 
will be sorry she stayed home. 

Mrs. Carroll — And you think Helen has enjoyed 
it, too? 

Mr. Fairmour — I never saw her so happy and con- 
tented in her life. I'm sorry I must take her away 
today. 

Mrs. Carroll — Can't you leave her in my care a 
few days longer. She completes the happiness of 
our household, and we shall miss her when she goes. 

Mr. Fairmour — I know she would be in good 
hands, Mrs. Carroll, but her mother would not con- 
sent. 

41 



Mrs. Carroll — I hope you will permit her to come 
back often. 

Mr. Fairmour — If she buys an interest in the 
ranch she will no doubt be here a great deal — after 
she is married. 

Mrs. Carroll — O, she is engaged ! I did not know 
that. Somebody is lucky, and his mother ought to 
be happy to have such a daughter. I hope when 
Jack marries he gets one like her. 

Mr. Fairmour — He deserves the best, and I wish 
him all good luck. He is a noble fellow, Mrs. Car- 
roll. 

Mrs. Carroll — I'm his mother, Mr. Fairmour, 
which fact excuses me for saying everybody loves 
Jack. 

Blarney — (R.) So do I. The car to take ye into 
the city has arrived, Meesther Fairmour, and the 
shoo-fly says if yez want to make the noon train for 
Chicago ye had better be on the way. 

Mrs. Carroll — O, is it that late ? I will have your 
breakfast in a moment. (Ex. right.) 

Mr. Fairmour — I cannot miss that train. Where 
is Helen? 

Blarney — Not here. Yez will have to leave her for 
the second section. 

Mr. Fairmour — It is impossible. She must go 
with me. (Horses heard in distance.) What is 
that? 

Blarney — Sure, and it's the children returning. 

Mr. Fairmour — How are they riding this time? 

Blarney — Without lookin' I can tell ye leetle 
Drosa is in front. (Goes to window, back center.) 
And then the cowboys. 

Mr. Fairmour — And then — 

Blarney — By cheeminy, thot's all. 

Mr. Fairmour — What! Helen not with them? 

Blarney — Aye, sir, two are missing. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, this will never do. 

Blarney — Sure, and don't worry, sir. They will 
be here soon. 

Mr. Fairmour — Why do you say that? 

Blarney — Because they are on the trail of love, 
and the trail of love leads home. Don't be worry- 
ing, sir. She is out with Meesther Jack, and he will 
bring her back safe and sound. (Looks out of win- 

42 



dow excitedly.) Ah, here they come — cheek by 
jowl, and full steam ahead. Sure and it's a glorious 
sight, Meesther Fairmour. Look how she rides. (Mr. 
F. looks over his shoulder, adjusting glasses.) 
Meesther Jack is pulling back to let her win. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Distressed.) O, what can Helen 
mean — that is dangerous! 

Blarney — Niver when Meesther Jack is along, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — You can't fool me — that horse has 
bolted and is running away. O, my daughter. (Puts 
hands to eyes and turns away.) 

Blarney — (Horses getting closer.) Holy St. Pat- 
rick ! Ye are right. He is running away with her. 
(Horses louder.) But look, sir — Meesther Jack sees 
it. Like a thunderbolt he comes. See how he gains 
on her. Like a hawk he is swooping down the trail 
— half a length more and he will save her — he comes 
alongside — I see his arms go out to save her. O, 
mein Grott, do not let her feet hang. Look, look, 
look! He lifts her in his arms — (Turns from win- 
dow) and she is saved — and happy. Ah, Meesther 
Fairmour, and that ought niver to be THEIR last 
ride together. 

Rosa — (R.) O, Mr. Fairmour, you are not going 
to take her away today, are you ? 

Mr. Fairmour — I must, dear. 

Rosa — No, you mustn't. She wants to stay. 

Mr. Fairmour — Did she say so? 

Rosa — You bet she did. She wants you to move 
your stinking old packing plant out here on the 
ranch and save freight charges. 

Mr. Fairmour — Ohohohoho. Just like Helen. 

Rosa — Then let her stay. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, I can't, dear. And you must 
not beg me. Between Helen and you I haven't any 
room to have my own way. 

Rosa — You are mean. 

Mr. Fairmour — I have to be to get by you two. 

Rosa — I will be here all by myself. 

Mr. Fairmour— You wilf have Jack. Where is 
he? I want to thank him for saving Helen's life. 

Rosa-—0, he does something like that every day. 
If nothing else turns up he saddles the wildest pony 
on the ranch ties a bush to his tail, turns him loose 
on the prairie — then mounts his horse, overtakes and 

43 



robs him of the saddle. Here he comes now, and if 
you are glad he saved Miss Helen's life you will let 
her stay longer. (Exit right, meeting Jack.) 

Mr. Fairmour — Jack, I want to compliment your 
splendid horsemanship, and thank you for display- 
ing it in my daughter's behalf. 

Jack — I felt responsible for bringing her back to 
you safe and sound. 

Mr. Fairmour — It was a close call, Jack, and I 
hope she will never be so foolish as to ride a horse 
like that again. 

Jack — I regarded the pony as the safest on the 
ranch and cannot understand why he behaved so 
ugly. If she had been hurt I would have felt the 
blame very keenly. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, she loves adventure, and will 
no doubt prize the experience highly. By the way, 
Jack, what does Helen think of the investment by 
now? Has she decided to accept your proposition? 

Jack — She tendered her acceptance, and, and I re- 
fused it. 

Mr. Fairmour — You refused it ! 

Jack — I have been considering the matter care- 
fully, and have decided it would be best not to un- 
dertake the changes at this time. I'm sorry I put 
you to so much trouble. 

Mr. Fairmour — It has been no trouble at all, Jack. 
I have thoroughly enjoyed the outing. But I do not 
understand why you have changed your mind in this 
way. 

Jack — It would be difficult for me to explain so 
that you would understand. 

Mr. Fairmour — I think I understand. We will 
drop the matter for a while, and if later you find 
that you have need of some of my money let me 
know. I will advance you any amount, either as a 
loan or investment. 

Jack — Thank you. 

Mr. Fairmour — And by the way, Jack, I have 
been looking over this ranch to the west of you. It 
is for sale at a reasonable price, and I want you to 
buy it for me. My heart is set on some good Texas 
land. 

Jack — Do you mean to make a sort of country 



44 



place out of it, and bring your family out occa- 
sionally ? 

Mr. Fairmour — Exactly so. Nothing could please 
Helen more, and I am sure Mrs. Fairmour and the 
Judge would be delighted with the idea. 

Jack — Let me sell you Lone Star. 

Mr. Fairmour — What? I did not think money 
could buy it. 

Jack — It could this morning, Mr. Fairmour. I 
think I would be happier somewhere else. 

Mr. Fairmour — What will you take for it? 

Jack — (Going right.) I will consider the matter 
and write you within ten days. 

Mr. Fairmour — Very well, Jack — if you will have 
it no other way. 

Jack — It is not as I would have, but it is the best 
I can do. (Ex. right.) 

Mr. Fairmour — The boy is disappointed, and, 
brave as he is, he cannot hide it. And I am afraid 
he will never be able entirely to forget Helen. I'm 
not so sure that I would have him do it. 

Helen — (Right.) Daddy, must we go today? 

Mr. Fairmour — Yes, Helen. You must dress at 
once. We have no time to lose. 

Helen — When I think of going away from this 
happy place my heart feels cold, and, and empty. Let 
me stay longer. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, for heaven's sake, Helen, don't 
be a baby. What would the Judge think of you ? 

Helen — Daddy, why do you want me to marry the 
Judge ? 

Mr. Fairmour — Because I think he is a worthy 
fellow and will make you very happy. Why else 
should I want you to marry anyone ? 

Helen — Daddy, I have tried to love him, and 
thought I was succeeding, but since I came out here 
to God's country I have found that it must be an- 
other. If you want me to marry a worthy man, and 
one who would make me as happy as you could wish 
me, leave me here just ten days longer. 

Mr. Fairmour — Why, Helen, you are not going to 
ask Jack to marry you, are you? 

Helen — (Playfully.) Well, not exactly that — but 
I am certainly going to let him know that I do not 



45 



love the Judge. And then I mean to hold him to a 
strict account for all he does and says. 

Mr. Fairmour — Ohohohoho. What would your 
mother say to that? 

Helen — She would say I am a fool. 

Mr. Fairmour — She would be right. 

Helen — Well, it is a case of a happy fool, or a 
dead hero. I'm looking for happiness, and advise 
you to line up. 

Mr. Fairmour — You are ignoring your promise to 
the Judge. 

Helen — I made him no promise. 

Mr. Fairmour — Mother said you did. 

Helen — rShe got that idea from wanting me to. 
She told Jack I was engaged in order to forestall 
him. But I made no promises to the Judge except 
that I would try to love him. In that I have failed 
miserably, and I feel that it would be quite dishon- 
orable not to tell him so. Please convey the word 
to him, and leave me here to work out my own hap- 
piness. 

Mr. Fairmour — If I should leave you here how 
would you get back to Chicago ? 

Helen — If you are too busy to come for me, I 
could ride a pony. 

Mr. Fairmour — Not that one you rode this morn- 
ing. 

Helen— Why? 

Mr. Fairmour — Because he is dangerous. 

Helen — I think he is fine; but I will promise not 
to ride him again — unless someone is along to take 
me off when he gets unruly. 

Mr. Fairmour — That trick of Jack's was a bit of 
fine horsemanship. 

Helen— HORSEMANSHIP ! 

Mr. Fairmour — Why not? 

Helen — I would call it something nicer than that. 
O, daddy, were you ever in a tight place (Goes to 
rear of chair and slips arms round his neck), feel- 
ing that you were lost — then suddenly have two 
strong arms (Hugs him) slip firmly about you and 
draw jou to him, so that you could hug him about 
the neck while he stopped his horse. 

Mr. Fairmour — No. No. No. You don't mean 
to tell me that you hugged him, do you? 

46 



Helen — I certainly do. You don't want me to be 
an ingrate, do you? 

Mr. Fairmour — I want you to stop this cavalry 
business before you get hurt. 

Helen — It's a lot safer than spinning round Lake 
Shore in the Judge's big automobile. When you 
come back for me I will have a nice gentle pony for 
you to ride. 

Mr. Fairmour — When I come back for you ! 

Helen — (Going right, smiling.) Yes. I will 
write you when to come. (Ex. right.) 

Mr. Fairmour — (Shaking his head.) Ripp was 
right. "Miss 'Ellen's word is law, sir." 

Rosa (L.) Breakfast is ready, Mr. Fairmour. Are 
you going to let her stay ? 

Mr. Fairmour — (Going right with Rosa.) Not if 
I can help it. (They meet Jack at right entrance.) 

Rosa — Breakfast is ready, Jack. 

Jack — Don't wait for me. I do not care for break- 
fast. (Exit Rosa and Mr. F., right. Jack advances 
to desk and sits on corner.) It is confoundedly 
strange that of all women in the world, this one, 
with her heart at the high noon of its power to love 
and charm, should come into my little day, and ere 
the dew is gone steal away and leave me to nurse a 
disappointmjent. Every inch of this old prairie is 
interwoven with a memory of her — the wild flowers 
hold the echo of her sweet voice and will give it to 
none but me — and there is the pony she rode, and the 
reins she held in her dear hands — all of these will 
haunt me and make me understand that fate is cruel. 
. . . Sell! Of course, I will sell (rises) and go 
where she has never been, and may never come. 

Helen — (Right; waits short space.) Did I under- 
stand you to say you would sell ? 

Jack — I think it is best. 

Helen — I am glad you have decided to stick to 
your proposition. I should have been disappointed 
not to be your partner. 

Jack — I am selling to your father and shall go 
away at once. 

Helen — O, that way. Well, father doesn't know 
just what to do, and is leaving me here a week longer 
so that I will decide whether I will make the invest- 
ment. How does that suit you? 

47 



Jack — Rosa will make your stay as pleasant as 
possible. 

Helen — Why are you going away ? 

Jack — I think it is best. 

Helen — Don't you think it would be best for me to 
go away? 

Jack — I did not say that. I am trying to arrange 
matters so that I will not be so miserable when you 
are gone. In this I may seem a bit selfish, but you 
must be kind and let me have my way. I can never 
look upon these plains again with anything but the 
most abject loneliness . . . There, now, you 
have made me say it, and let me add that I have no 
one to blame but myself. 

Helen — Have I disappointed you, Mr. Carroll? 

Jack — I have no right to claim a disappointment. 
I could not be so presumptuous. 

Helen — Would that be presumption? 

Jack — -I think so. 

Helen — You told me the cowboys would like me. 

Jack — They do. 

Helen — And, Mr. Real Estate Agent, you told me 
also that if I touched a cowboy's heart kindly it 
would be lordly. 

Jack — You have touched a cowboy's heart, and 
that is why it is trying to be lordly. But it would 
be easier for him if he should never see your sweet 
face again. Don't make me beg you. You see my 
heart is entirely free and, and, lonely — and with 
you it is different. 

Helen — Yes, with me it is different. But I can't 
see why we should not be happy here just one more 
week. Don't you want me to stay? 

Jack — I would lie if I said no. 

Blarney — ( Entering right hurriedly. ) Mees Fair- 
mour, the driver says he must be going at once. 

Helen — That information is for my father. 

Blarney — Sure! (Enter hurriedly, right, Mr. 
Fairmour, Mrs. Carroll and Rosa.) 

Mr. Fairmour — Get my baggage, Blarney. 

Blarney — It is in the car, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — Helen, I won't have time to wait 
for you to dress. I will come back for you in one 
week. 

Helen — 0, 1 can dress in a jiffy. 
48 



Mr. Fairmour — Yes, I know how long your jiffies 
are. Mrs. Carroll, I hope she does not give you any 
trouble. 

Mrs. Carroll — I am so glad you are going to let 
her stay. I promise to keep her safe and sound. 

Rosa — You bet we will, won't we. Jack? 

Helen — Tell mother how glorious it is out here. 
And say to the Judge that he should take his nose 
out of a contract long enough to run out and seo 
some real life. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Shaking hands around.) Good- 
by, all. Mrs. Carroll, it has been a delightful week, 
I assure you. 

Mrs. Carrol — Come again and bring Mrs. Fair 
mour. 

Jack — And the Judge. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Giving Blarney a cigar.) Al- 
right. Here, my good friend, enjoy this good ha- 
vana, and gaze at my picture in the smoke until you 
cannot forget me. 

Blarney — Thank ye, sir. But it is not pictures in 
the smoke that makes an Irishman remember. It's 
the picture in his heart, Meesther Fairmour. 

Helen — Good for Blarney. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Giving him bill folded length- 
wise.) And here is a taper to light it with. You 
have been the best butler I ever had. 

Blarney — Sure and this buttling job is foine. 
(Sees size of bill.) Holy smoke! Ye made a mis- 
take. This is twenty dollars. 

Mr. Fairmour — The mistake is in my favor, Blar- 
ney. Take good care of the children. I leave them 
in your care. Good-by, Jack. Let me have your 
decision as soon as you can, and don't forget I want 
all the good Texas land I can buy. Use your own 
judgment — whatever you do will be alright with me. 
(Auto horn off left — takes hat from Blarney. Good- 
by and good luck everybody. (Off left on quick cur- 
tain, others calling good-bye, etc.) 



ACT IV. 

SCENE— Same as Act III. One week later. 
49 



Jack — (Seated at desk — Blarney entering right.) 
Did you find Mr. Grigsby? 

Blarney — The For-r-remon will be here soon. 

Jack — Blarney, Mr. Fairmour will be here tomor- 
row to close the deal for Lone Star. Would you 
like for me to reserve a place with him for you? 

Blarney — Sure, and I thought you was selling him 
but half, and that ye would stay here and run the 
place. 

Jack — I am selling him everything. I do not want 
to stay here. 

Blarney — Ah, Laddie, and it's sorry I be to hear 
ye say thot ; for I've been thinking it would be good 
to be alive when ye sold Miss Fairmour a half in- 
terest, then married her and kept the ranch in the 
family. 

Jack — Don't, Blarney. Just answer whether you 
wish to stay with Mr. Fairmour. 

Blarney — Next to ye, Laddie, I loike him moighty 
foine, and if I cannot do better I'd loike to stay. 

Jack — If you think staying with me would be bet- 
ter I would be very glad to keep you; but just where 
I shall be is indefinite. I advise you to stay here. 

Blarney — (Going right.) Alright, Laddie, I will 
stay. 

Jack — (To Mr. Grigsby, who enters left.) Good 
morning, Mr. Grigsby. Sit down. I have finished 
the deeds by which Lone Star passes from the heirs 
and assigns of the Carrolls forever. I know if my 
father could he would ride back across the great di- 
vide and tear them into shreds and rebuke me for 
my ingratitude for bartering away the idol of his 
heart. And yet I think it is best. 

Mr. Grigsby — Jack, my boy, you are making a 
mistake. No matter what it costs you to stay here, it 
is your plain duty to stand by your mother's home at 
least as long as she lives. After then I would not 
complain if the place passes into stranger's hands. 

You must not forget that this is the dearest spot 
in all the world to her widowed heart. 

Jack — Now, my old friend, please don't come at 
me like that. You know that mother's happiness 
means everything to me, and that I would not dis- 
regard it under any circumstances. You must think 
of me a little. 

50 



Mr. Grigsby — You are a cowboy, Jack, and too 
good a rider to be unhorsed like this. Brace yourself 
and meet it bravely. Forget Miss Fairmour — or 
think of her as the queen of a happy little dream, 
one that vanishes when you wake up. 

Jack — Forget her ! Ah, my friend, when you en- 
throne a woman as the queen of your heart you de- 
stroy the power of forgetting her. I may seem un- 
mindful of my father's trust, and my mother's hap- 
piness; you and the boys may think me selfish and 
unworthy of the confidence you give me as my 
father's son ; Little Rosa may turn her back on me ; 
the coyotes may call out in the night time — QUIT- 
TER; and the plains echo back TRAITOR; still all 
this is far better than for me to try to live here amid 
the scenes that have been glorified by her presence, 
and which I can never look on again except to love 
her more. 

Mr. Grigsby — I know it is tough, but take an old 
friend's advice and wait a while longer. Time will 
be friendly. Let Mr. Fairmour take his daughter 
back to Chicago and give her to whoever he pleases. 
She wouldn't have come out here and broken your 
heart if she was the right kind. 

Jack — (Savagely.) Grigsby! Swallow that or I 
will kill you. 

Mr. Grigsby — (Unafraid, stares him in the ej 7 e 
and slowly offers hand.) I'm sorry, Jack. 

Jack — (With feeling.) Mr. Grigsby, forgive me. 
(Takes his hand.) I am ashamed of myself. You 
know I love you like a father, and would gladly die 
for you. 

Mr. Grigsby — That is alright, Jack. I ought not 
to have said it. Do what you think is best. (Exits 
right, meeting Mrs. Carroll.) 

Mrs. Carroll — What is the matter with Mr. Grigs- 
by, Jack? 

Jack — Like all the rest he thinks I am a fool, and 
is too good to say so. Mother, I am in the dark. Tell 
me what to do. 

Mrs. Carroll — My boy, do what 3^011 think is best 
and I shall not complain. So far as I am concerned, 
it does not matter very much. If we sell the ranch 
and go East, you and Rosa will have better advan- 
tages, and perhaps in the end it will be best. 

51 



Jack — Mr. Grigsby thinks I ought to keep you 
here where you will be happiest. Do you think any 
other place could be home to you? 

Mrs. Carroll — Not in the sense that Lone Star is 
home, Jack. This is the first and only home I ever 
had. To keep it pure and clean through the chang- 
ing scenes of a lifetime has been the one purpose of 
my life. And now that I am growing old I shouldn't 
wonder if my heart found its purest joy here amid 
the scenes of my yesterdays. They are precious 
memories, my boy, made up of sorrows and gladness 
in such proportions as to cling to a mother's heart, 
and cause her to regard each of them as a pearl in 
a long string of memories that entwines my widowed 
heart and leads it back in tender retrospection. This 
is mine always, Jack, no matter where we go. But, 
of course, when I think of HOME this memory will 
and must lead me back to Lone Star, the bright pen- 
dant on my string of pearls. I will go with you 
anywhere, but there can be no place like HOME. 
(Cowboys off left sing chorus of HOME, SWEET 
HOME.) 

Jack — (Advancing and laying arm about her 
shoulder, while her head is bowed in her arm.) Don't 
cry, mother. It shan't me sold. I did not know it 
meant so much to you. It shall be yours as long as 
you live. The little heartache that caused me to 
forget you for a moment does not go half so deep 
in my life as my love for you, and it will be easy 
for me to lay all else aside and do my duty. 

Mrs. Carroll — (Brightening.) No, Jack, that 
would be selfish of me, and it would make me very 
unhappy. If you love Helen, my greatest joy would 
be to see that love fully requited. 

Jack — That can never be, mother. 

Mrs. Carroll — I am sorry for you, Jack, and know 
nothing to say that will help you. I believe that 
love will find its way. Do what you think is best 
and mother will understand. (Exit right.) 

Jack — Mother will understand ! What a world of 
comfort that thought gives. MOTHER. AT 
LEAST, WILL UNDERSTAND! No matter if 
we sink so low the world despises us, still mother 
understands, and loves, and pities, and helps, if she 
can. Somehow mother never forgets how to enfold 

52 



you in her tender arms and shield you with a love 
that endureth all things, and is second only to its 
fountain of strength and purity — the great loving 
heart of God. And, come what may to me, I shall 
be found standing guard at her dear heart's door, 
trying to keep away the silver threads that are fast 
creeping in among the gold. Cowboys off left sing 
chorus of SILVER THREADS AMONG THE 
GOLD.) 

Rosa— (Right.) What are those big tears a-doing 
in mother's eyes ? 

Jack — It is the distilled dew of heaven washing 
away the stains of my ingratitude. Where is Miss 
Fairmour? 

Rosa— She will be on in just a minute. I came 
ahead to see if the coast is clear. 

Jack — (Going left.) It will be clear in just a 
minute. 

Rosa — You are not going, are you? She won't 
bite you. 

Jack — You think not? 

Rosa — If she should, it wouldn't hurt much. She 
bit me this morning, and, gee, I thought it was fine. 
See. (Indicates her throat.) 

Jack — (Going close.) Let me see the print of her 
teeth. Yes, there they are, alright — two pretty semi- 
circles — smooth and even and sweet. (Kisses the 
bite.) 

Rosa — How you like 'em? 

Jack — Fine. Give me another. 

Rosa — (Escaping him.) Hold on, there. I am no 
kiss transmitter. If you want any more get 'em 
direct. They are better when they are fresh. 

Jack — I do not doubt it, but as I am denied the 
real ones I don't think you should be so stingy with 
those you have. 

Rosa — I bet if you had a bushel of Miss Helen's 
kisses you would not so much as let me look like I 
wanted one. 

Jack — A bushel ? How many would that be ? 

Rosa — That depends. If she gave a good hug, and 
a squeeze and a bite and a smile with it, I should 
say ONE would fill a bushel and stick out. 

Jack — I'd give my right arm for one of that kind. 



53 



Rosa — It would take both arms, and your heart, 
too, to hold it. I know 'cause I've had one. 

Jack — Ye gods ! How I envy you. 

Rosa — Better be looking out for yourself, buddie. 
She is going away tomorrow, and then the Judge 
will get 'em all. 

Jack— THE JUDGE ! I could kil 

Rosa — (Alarmed.) What's the matter, Jack? You 
look pale. You don't love her, do you ? 

Jack — Yes, Rosa, with all my broken heart, and 
every good thing about me. And the pity of it is 
that I can never love her less. 

Rosa — Why don't you tell her about it, Jack ? 

Jack — It's too late. I can't. 

Rosa — I can. Want me to? 

Jack — Not if you love me. You don't understand, 
Rosa. Just love me, and know that I love you. 
(Goes left.) 

Rosa — Aren't you going with us? This is Miss 
Helen's last ride. 

Jack — No. Make excuses for me. (Exit left.) 

Rosa — Poor Jack! Just living on second-hand 
kisses when his heart is crying for a true kiss with a 
soul in it. I won't stand by and see him treated any 
such way. Perhaps a little child can lead them. 

Helen — (Right.) Lead who? 

Rosa — (Jumping.) O, ah, ah — ducks, of course. 

Helen — Why not lead some drakes? 

Rosa — I figure on the ducks doing that. 

Helen — Do you call that metaphysics? 

Rosa — Not on your life. I call that strictly hu- 
man nature. 

Helen — I'm sorry I cannot be here to enjoy the 
fun with you. Rosa, when I think of going away 
tomorrow it makes me feel blue. I have nevej^been 
so happy in my life, and if I never get back to see 
you I want you to know that I shall think of you 
often, and long to be here with you. 

Rosa — Must you go away? Why can't you stay 
longer? I, too, will be lonely when you are gone. 

Helen — You will have your brother, and I should 
think that would make you happy. 

Rosa — Yes, but he will be blue, too. 

Helen — Do you think so? 



54 



Rosa — And when he's blue, he's awful blue, and 
just wont let me love himi. 

Helen— Why? 

Rosa — 'Cause I'm his sister, and he knows I will 
love him anyhow. 

Helen — I wish I was your sister. 

Rosa — O, that would spoil everything. Jack's got 
all the sister love he is looking for. Besides, he loves 
somebody else a heap more than he loves me. 

Helen — ( Distressed. ) Who ? 

Rosa — O, I mustn't tell. It is a secret. 

Helen — Is he engaged to her? 

Rosa— Not Q-U-I-T-E, but he soon will be. 
(Aside.) If I have my way. 

Helen — (Goes to window and then turns.) Have 
you ever seen her ? 

Rosa — Yes, and I love her just lots. 

Helen — What is she like? Is she beautiful? And 
does she love him? 

Rosa — She is the most beautiful creature in the 
world — and she loves him. 

Helen — Of course. 

Rosa — Why do you say that? 

Helen — Because — just — because. Let me see her 
picture. 

Rosa — >He keeps that in his heart and won't let 
me look at it. 

Helen — If the creature knows he loves her, she 
has had happiness enough already. 

Rosa — She is like the heroine of his book. 

Helen — WTiat book ? 

Rosa — Oh ! I forgot ; he did not want you to know 
that. It is one of our secrets. But as 1 have given 
it away I might as well tell you all. You see it was 
this way. When Jack came from Yale he wrote a 
book, and being afraid it would be a failure he woul<} 
not let the publishers use his name. So they charged 
it up to "Jack the Cowboy." 

Helen— LONE STAR ! The sweetest story ever 
told. Rosa Carroll, are you telling me the truth ? 

Rosa — If you want the proof (Reaches under desk 
and produces manuscripts) there it is. Every line 
as he dreamed it out. And here is the copy you gave 
him. He has read it carefully, studying the marked 



55 



passages. He gave me the manuscripts, but said he 
would never part with that copy. 

Helen — Could I do anything in the world that 
would cause you to give me these manuscripts ? 

Rosa — What do you want with them? 

Helen — I want to keep them always in memory of 
you and, and — Jack. It is the story that won my heart 
and opened my eyes to a bigger and better life. I 
have seen and tasted that better life, and if I cannot 
have it as my own this book in the original script 
would be held most dearly by me. I do not think 
Mr. Carroll would care if you gave it to me. 

Rosa — He would be tickled to death if he knew 
you wanted it. 

Helen — Don't laugh at me, dear. It is a weakness 
I cannot overcome. It isn't asking much for all 
that I have given. Why haven't you told me this 
before ? 

Rosa — Why should you care? Turns slowly and 
exits right.) 

Helen — Why should I care? Why should I com- 
plain if the noblest and best part of me is not good 
enough to be cared for by the only heart in the 
world that I want as my very own? How can I 
ever be happy again when my heart is crushed and 
unrequited ! O, I wonder why should I care ! And 
why should this book with its wonder sweet story 
of the big open country, and God's sunshine and 
pure air, and the bright golden cord of love and 
fidelity, running through it from beginning to end, 
fall into my life and lead me here to the very heart 
of it — only to find it all a bitter, bitter lie. O, I 
wonder why should I care! 

Rosa — (Right.) The boys are getting ready for 
our last ride, and they are as sad as if they were 
going to a funeral. Really, I don't think they would 
care half as much if I were going away. 

Helen — They are, dears, every one of them, and I 
am glad they at least will miss me when I'm gone. 

Rosa — Like the rest of us, they will never forget 
you. 

Blarney — (Right.) Here is the mail, ladies, and 
express. (Places it on desk and stands back.) 

Rosa — (Going to desk.) O, let's see what the world 



S3 



is doing. The first thing I see is a letter for you. 
And its from your father. (Hands letter.) 

Helen — (Reading.) Dear Helen — It is impossible 
for me to come for you tomorrow. So please come 
on home at once. Jolly will meet you in Kansas 
City. Tell Jack I will see him as soon as possible. 
Kindest regards for the Carrolls and Blarney. I 
am sending him a smile by this express. Don't fail 
to come. Lovingly, Daddy. 

Blarney — A smoile, did he say? I wonder how 
he sent thot smile. 

Rosa — (Picking up package, which the audience 
will recognize as a quart of whiskey.) Here it is. 
Mr. Blarney Redmon, care of Lone Star — and a very 
suspicious looking SMILE at that. 

Blarney — (Takes package — shakes it and smiles.) 
Ah, sure, and I remember me now. Meesther Fair- 
mour is sending me some more of those foine cigars 
— so that I can see his picture in the smoke. 

Helen — If that package contains CIGARS, Blar- 
ney, they certainly are the longest cigars I ever saw. 

Blarney — Sure, sure, lady, the longer the cigar, 
the longer the smoke. 

Rosa — Blarney, we are doubtful. Open the pack- 
age and let us see the CIGARS. 

Blarney — Aldhright! Have yez a corkscrew — O, 
ah, ah (cough), I mean a MATCH. 

Helen — O, Blarney, you are a gay deceiver. 

Blarney — Sure, and when I am in the presence of 
ladies I am a DE-ceiver; but when I get out by me- 
silf with a package loikee this one, I am then a gay 
Re- ceiver. (Ex. R.) 

Rosa — If you want to see the bright side of every- 
thing just look through an Irishman's spectacles. 

Helen — I wish I had a dozen pairs. 

Rosa — What bright side do you want to see now, 
Miss Helen? 

Helen — I would like to see the bright side of the 
future — if it has one. 

Rosa — O, it has one, alright. You will find it 
when you get back to the Judge. (Picking up let- 
ter.) Here is a letter from him now. 

Helen — (Carelessly.) Read it. 

Rosa — What! Read your love letters before you 
see them? (Opens letter.) Gee, this is fun. (Reads.) 

57 



"My Darling" — Whoop-e-e, what a sky-rocket! 
"You are treating me shamefully" — Ouch, that 
sounds bilious. "If you had a proper regard for 
me" — (Offering letter.) Here, Miss Helen, I think 
you had better read this. I am going and get in 
the storm cellar. 

Helen — It's just a bluff. Go ahead with it. 

Rosa — Alright, but if I get on to any of your se- 
crets, don't blame me. "If you had a proper regard 
for me, you would come on home and get ready for 
our marriage. As your (Spells) F-I-A-N-C-E" — 
What is that? 

Helen — It's a presumption. 

Rosa — Why, Miss Helen. "As your" — whatever 
that thing is — "I command you to come on back or 
take the consequences." 

Helen — Commands me, does he ? — The old fossil ! 

Rosa — And he winds it up — "Yours, if you will 
come back, Horace." Now, that is what I call a 
genuine love letter — "Yours, if you will come back, 
Horace." (Laughs.) O, it must be great fun to be 
in love. (Picks up small package.) And here's a 
package from Peacock's for Jack. Let's open it ; he 
won't care. (Takes out string of pearls and pen- 
dant, holding them up.) O, isn't that beautiful? 
It is my father's old branding iron, cut down and 
plated with gold. Just before father died he called 
for the old branding iron and placed it in Jack's 
hand, requesting him to keep it always and pass it 
down the generations as the badge of ownership of 
LONE STAK. Jack says he is going to use it as 
his engagement token. Isn't it a beauty, and won't 
it make her happy ? 

Helen — If she knew it represents the star of an- 
other's hope, she would prize it more. 

Rosa — Miss Helen, I see some big tears a-dawning 
in your pretty eyes. 

Helen — Perhaps you do, Rosa; for my heart is 
killing me. 

Rosa — I wish I hadn't let you see it. 

Helen — It doesn't matter, dear. Let me have it 
in my hands just once. (Takes it.) Yes, it is beau- 
tiful — in its significance to the one he shall honor 
with its keeping. To her the heart of it is iron, de- 
noting strength; the outside is gold, to represent 

58 



purity; the shape of it is a star, signifying light; 
and to her this pretty diamond could mean a tear 
distilled from the anguish of another's heart. And 
these pearls represent fidelity, and they are bound 
together by a strong oord of love which is endless. 
Indeed it is beautiful ; but for me it has a quite dif- 
ferent meaning. To me the heart of it is something 
that rusts and wears away under the glittering gold 
outside; and the diamond and pearls are jeering fin- 
gers pointed at me. Take it away, Rosa, and keep 
my secret. 

Rosa — Don't cry, Miss Helen. Here comes Jack. 

Helen — (Brightening quickly and laughing.) I 
wasn't crying. Are my eyes red? 

Rosa — They are mighty pretty. (Enter Blarney, 
right.) O, it's Blarney. 

Blarney — The boys are ready for the ride, ladies. 

Rosa — Do you want to go with them? 

Helen — Yes. Tell them to saddle up that runaway 
pony for me. 

Bla?mey — Meesther Jack won't be along this time, 
Miss Helen. 

Helen — It doesn't matter. I will ride no other. 

Blarney — Sure. (Exit right.) 

Rosa — I don't want you to ride that horse, Miss 
Helen. You might get hurt. 

Helen — I could not be hurt more. I will show 
you how to ride this time, Rosa, and if I am not in 
at the finish tell the boys it was my fault. 

Rosa — I'm getting scared. I think we had better 
not go. 

Helen — Would you rob me like that ? I was only 
joking. Come, stick some more pins in my hair, or 
it will all be down before we get started. 

Rosa — I can tell you how to keep it from coming 
down without sticking it full of pins. 

Helen — How ? 

Rosa — Take it down to begin with. Jack likes it 
that way. 

Helen — 0, does he? Then take it down and fix it 
like yours. 

Rosa — Right-o. Sit down here — (places chair on 
left and facing left)— and I will get a brush from 
Jack's room — the one he uses. (Runs off left and 
returns quickly, hastily arranging her hair in a big 

59 



curl. The hair should be prepared for this work be- 
fore going on scene.) O, this is great fun, and a 
lot nicer than trying to ride a bucking bronco with 
your head stuck full of pins. When a club comes 
down it makes a bad picture. 

Helen — (Laughing.) Isn't it awful! 

Rosa — Jack says a woman's hair is too beautiful 
to be hid under a bushel. 

Helen — Why haven't you told me before? I like 
to wear my hair down. 

Rosa — (Pulling off her coat.) Now, you must 
put on my coat. 

Helen — ( Questioningly . ) Why ? 

Rosa — I want you to look just like me. 

Helen — (Obeying.) What are you going to wear? 

Rosa — I am going in my shirt sleeves — as the boys 
would say. 

Helen — (Rising and turning.) How do I look? 

Rosa — I fancy you look just like me — in the back, 
I mean. If Jack sees you he will say, "Hello, Rosa. 
You look mighty sweet. Come, give me a kiss." 

Helen — O, do you think so? (Pulling off coat.) 
Perhaps I shouldn't look like you then. What would 
I do if he should make such a mistake? 

Rosa — (Pulling coat on her.) Why, kiss him, of 
course. Here he comes now. Let's see if we can't 
fool him. 

Helen — O, heavens, no. That would never do. 

Rosa — (Forcing her to chair.) Sit down. It's too 
late now. I will hide here and protect you. (Con- 
ceals herself behind Helen, and on opposite side from 
desk.) Now you be quiet and let me do all the talk- 
ing. See? (Enter Jack, right, and advances to 
desk.) Are the horses ready, Jack? 

Jack — (Starting.) Why, Rosa, how you scared 
me? I thought I was alone. 

Rosa — Well, not by a big heap. Are you going to 
ride with us? 

Jack — I don't want to. 

Rosa — Don't you like those runaway scrapes ? 

Jack — No. They come too high. 

Rosa — What would Miss Helen say if she heard 
you say that ? 

Jack — She would be good enough to understand. 
(Sees necklace, picks it up slowly and examines it in 

60 



quiet.) The old branding iron of Lone Star — my 
father's greatest treasure — robbed of its pristine 
glory, and made over into a thing to preserve the 
hopes and memories of a blighted heart, Rosa, the 
last request of our dear father was that I should 
keep this as a badge of his confidence and trust, and 
pass it on through my eldest son to the posterity of 
the Carrols forever. (Rosa quietly slips out left 
unseen by Jack, who advances to Helen's chair.) If 
he had known that I could not in truth and honor 
share this sacred trust with any but Helen Fairmour, 
who loves another, he would have given it to you to 
insure its being kept in the family. (Places necklace 
over Helen's head, or clasps it under her hair- 
standing directly behind her.) And so do I. Keep 
it, Rosa; for it represents absolute authority and 
ownership of LONE STAR forever. And may you 
remain always as pure and sweet as now, so that 
some day you may ennoble some worthy man's life. 
And I pray that but ONE man shall ever truly love 
you. 

Helen — (Rising slowly and turning.) 

Jack — (Surprised.) Miss Fairmour ! Would you 
break my heart, then play with the pieces? 

Helen — No. I would bind up the broken pieces 
and make them whole again. 

Jack — What does this mean? 

Helen — It means, Jack, that this little star has 
led us out of the darkness. And my heart is as free 
as you could wish it. 

Jack— And I am the happiest fellow in all the 
world. (Takes her in his arms — as Rosa rushes in 
left.) 

Rosa — (On falling curtain.) Sic 'em, sic 'em, sic 
'em, etc., etc. 



ACT V. 

SCENE— Same as Act II— three days later. 
Evening. 

Ripp— (Enter right and crossing rapidly to left, 
meeting Mrs. Fairmour at door.) Hi was looking 
for you, Mrs. Fairmour. There is a quite common 

61 



looking man at the entrance, and he asks to see Mr. 
Fairmour. Shall I let him in? 

Mrs. Fairmour — A beggar, or a bomb thrower, I 
suppose. No. Send him away. 

Ripp — Quite so, madam. (Bows out right.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — I would not be surprised if that 
is the advance guard of Helen's dear cowboys com- 
ing to rob us. I sincerely hope this three weeks' 
jaunt in the wilds of civilization has entirely cured 
her of that disgraceful infatuation for the West. 
When she comes back and finds how displeased the 
Judge is with her conduct she will be all remorse; 
and it will do my heart good to see her begging his 
forgiveness. 

Ripp — (R.) The vagabond insists on an audience 
with Mr. Fairmour. Says he is a friend, and will 
not go away. 

Mrs. Fairmour — He does, does he? Well, call the 
police.' I'm running this household tonight. 

Mr. Fairmour — (L.) What is the excitement, 
Mary ? 

Mrs. Fairmour — An anarchist is at the door and 
refuses to go away until he has seen you. 

Ripp — 'E is an Irishman, to boot, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — Well, I never heard of an Irish- 
man doing anything very desperate. Show him in, 
and watch him closely. 

Ripp — Yessir. (Bows out right.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — Please don't take the chance, Ar- 
thur. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, it's just a beggar; and why 
shouldn't I help him. (Enter Blarney, right, fol- 
lowed by Ripp, who has him covered with a revolver, 
which Blarney does not see.) 

Ripp — Here it is, sir. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Joyously.) By gad! It's Blar- 
ney ! (Rushes to him and shakes hands.) I am so 
glad you have decided to come and live with me. Sit 
down and name your terms. 

Blarney — (Courteously indicates Mrs. Fairmour 
by pointing thumb back over shoulder at her and 
nudging Mr. F.) 

Mr. Fairmour — O, I beg pardon. This is my good 
wife, Blarney. I am sure she will be glad to have 
you in the house. 

62 



Blarney — (Bowing.) I hope so, good lady. 

Mrs. Fairmour — In what capacity, I should like 
to know. 

Mr. Fairmour — As my personal attendant, dear. 
He is the finest you ever saw. One of Jack Carroll's 
men — brimming full of life and sunshine, and a 
heart that makes him kind." He is a tonic I am glad 
to get. (To Eipp.) He won't interfere with you, 
Eipp, unless you forget that he has authority over 
you. (Going left.) Come into the library, Blarney, 
and tell me about the ranch. 

Blarney — (Going left after Mr. Fairmour, and 
talking.) Sure, Meesther Fairmour, and me oold 
heart is full o' things to tell ye. (Exit left with 
Mr. F.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Looking after them and sighing 
deep and long.) Of all things! 
^ Ripp — (Same business of sighing.) This is the 
limit. Hi must take horders from a Hirishman ! 

Mrs. Fairmour — It is a common Irish scheme of 
Jack Carroll's to rob us of Helen, and Mr. Fairmour 
is falling to it. As her step-mother it is my duty to 
save her for my nephew, and I shall stop at nothing 
to carry my point. Eipp, call up the Rock Island 
and get the arrival of her train. (Eipp bows out 
right.) O, the vicissitudes of making a girl marry 
the right man; but I suppose it all goes with the 
matchmaker's lot. 

Mr. Fairmour — (L.) Blarney brings us good 
news, my dear. He tells me that Jack has decided 
to sell me Lone Star, and that Helen should be here 
tonight. So you see everything is coming out right. 
Won't Horace be glad? 

Mrs. Fairmour — I should think he ought to be 
very happy to get Helen after she is turned down by 
a Western ranchman. 

Mr. Fairmour — You don't know Jack Carroll, or 
you could not say that. He is the soul of honor, and 
is worthy of any man's daughter. Besides, my dear, 
it is very uncomplimentary to my daughter. 

Mrs. Fairmour — I did not mean to be uncompli- 
mentary to Helen. She has never realized the im- 
portance to YOU of having a Federal Judge in the 
family. 



63 



Mr. Fairmour — Importance to ME ! I don't un- 
derstand you. 

Mrs. Fairmour — The government's attitude to- 
wards your business — 

Mr. Fairmour — That is an unworthy thought, 
Mary. Horace Swiftbanks would not stoop so low 
as that. 

Blarney — (L.) Meesther Fairmour, that tele- 
phone is wringing its head off in there. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Laughing and going left.) Al- 
right, Blarney, I will see what the trouble is. 
(Ex. L.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — I see that you do not know very 
much about a valet's etiquette. 

Blarney — Sure, koind lady, and it's moighty leetle 
I know about this etty-ketting business. I hope yez 
will be koind and patient with me while I lam. 

Mrs. Fairmour — When did you leave the ranch? 

Blarney — Three days ago, lady. I have been all 
this toime thryin to find Meesther Fairmour's place 
o' residence. 

Mrs. Fairmour — What has Miss Helen been doing 
for the past three weeks ? 

Blarney — Miss Helen has been making life and 
sunshine — for all but Meesther Jack. 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Sneeringly.) And why did she 
exclude him, I wonder. 

Blarney — Meesther Jack excluded himself, lady; 
because yez told him she was engaged. He loved 
her, but he played fair. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Why did he send you here ? 

Blarney — Because he is selling the ranch, and will 
go away somewhere and try to forget. When Mees- 
ther Fairmour was out with us he said I would be 
welcome here — but hanged if I believe it. 

Mrs. Fairmour — You will be welcome here on one 
condition. That is that you never mention 
MEESTHER JACK'S name in Miss Helen's pres- 
ence. 

Blarney — I do not think she would care to hear it, 
lady. 

Mrs. Fairmour— (Pleased.) I am glad to hear 
you say that. 

Ripp — (L.) The train from the West will be in 
on time at seven thirty, and Miss Helen is aboard. 

64 



So also the cowboy and his sister. (Chin high.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — (Hurriedly.) Order the car out 
and meet the train. Bring Helen here direct. Say 
to the others it will not be convenient for me to see 
them before tomorrow afternoon. Be firm in this. 
Upon your success with these orders hangs your po- 
sition in this house. Be gone, you have no time to 
lose. (Ex. Kipp right and quickly.) Blarney, at- 
tend the door. If Judge Swiftbanks should come 
show him in here at once, and let me know. 

Blarney— (Looking right.) Someone is at the 
door now, lady. 

Mrs. Fairmour— ~Wz\\, see who it is. (Say this 
with a snap.) 

Blarney — (Flinches and goes right, colliding with 
the Judge at the door.) Holy St. Patrick! And 
what's ye hurry? 

Mrs. Fairmour— (To the rescue.) Come in, Hor- 
ace, and pardon this ruffian's awkwardness. He is 
an importation from the ranch, and I hope he is all 
we are to get. 

Judge — (Tips of fingers to nose.) Every way I 
turn I bump into something disagreeable from the 
RANCH! And I do not care to conceal the fact 
that it is getting on my nerves. 

Blarney— (To audience.) Who'd a thought he 
had a NERVE ? (Exit right on tiptoe.) 

Mrs. Fairmour— Now, nephew, don't be cross. 
Helen will be here in a few minutes. 

Judge — If she doesn't disappoint me again. Aunt 
Mary, I never dreamed that any woman could mis- 
treat me as Helen has. And unless she falls at my 
feet and begs forgiveness I shall never feel that she 
is good enough for me. 

Mrs. Fairmour— Perhaps she is not good enough 
for you, Horace, but, remember, what she lacks in 
that way, she makes up with several millions of her 
own. That ought to count for something. 

Judge — Yes, and the fact that I hold in my power 
decisions with which I can make or break her father, 
if I choose to render them against his business, ought 
to mean something to her, as well as to him, I fancy. 

Mrs. Fairmour— How fortunate that you hold 
such a trump card as that. Play it on Arthur befor« 
Helen arrives, and he will not let Helen delay the 



65 



marriage longer. I advise you to try it. Are you 
willing? 

Judge — It is desperate, but if it is the only way 
out, send him to me. 

Mrs. Fairmour — I think it absolutely necessary. 
Hold your nerve, now, and make a good bluff. It 
means millions to you. (Going left.) I will send 
him to you. (Ex. L.) 

Judge — Ah, we shall see who plays best. It is 
money I am after — money and revenge. My dignity 
demands it. 

Mr. Fairmour — (L.) Why, good evening, Horace. 
Were you practicing a speech? I thought I heard 
you say something about revenge. 

Judge — I was not conscious of speaking aloud, but 
I was thinking Helen's treatment of me is very try- 
ing on my dignity. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Jokingly.) Now, Horace, don't 
let your DIGNITY stick out too far — it might spoil 
everything. Helen is independent — if she is any- 
thing ; and I am not so sure I would have her other- 
wise. You must be generous, my boy. 

Judge — I will never marry her unless she apolo- 
gizes for this flirtation with a cowboy. 

Mr. Fairmour — (Firmly.) Not quite so strong, 
Judge. 

Judge — And why not? Do you think I should 
marry a woman who does not respect me? Who do 
you think I am? 

Mr, Fairmour — (Slowly and with feeling.) Up to 
two minutes ago I regarded you as a worthy gentle- 
man, and was glad to consider you as my, son-in-law 
and heir. But I want you to understand that my 
daughter's happiness is not in any way dependent on 
you for happiness. 

Judge — (With a sneer.) What you say is no 
doubt true as regards your daughter — but how about 
yourself ? 

Mr. Fairmour — (Fiercely.) Do you insinuate — 

Judge — (Interrupting quickly.) No. I state it 
as a fact, that you cannot afford not to have me as 
your son-in-law. You must not forget that I hold in 
my hand Federal Decisions with which I can break 
you. Don't be a fool. (Enter Blarney, right, and 
stand aside, listening.) 

66 



Mr. Fairmour — And you think, Horace Swift- 
banks, that I would be mean enough to barter my 
daughter's happiness to a cur like you, in order to 
profit by your patronage £ If you are so destitute 
of honor as to prostitute your high office to a black- 
mail with which to coerce some rich old daddy who 
is afraid of you, you may sometime find an accom- 
plice. But you have failed miserably in this in- 
stance. I am surprised and hurt to find what kind of 
man you really are, and wonder that I ever regarded 
you as a gentleman. I thank you for playing your 
card in time to save my daughter the disgrace of 
bearing your infamous name. I defy you to do your 
worst. My business is honorable, and not in any 
sense dependable on your unfair decision. And if 
you think you can damage me, get out and get 
about it. 

Judge — Perhaps you do not understand me. (Mrs. 
Fairmour enters left.) 

Mr. Fairmour — If there is anything more I do not 
care to hear it'. Blarney, show this scoundrel the 
door. 

Blarney — (Taking him by ear.) This way, 
SWIFTY. 

Judge — I'd like to explain. 

Blarney — Tell it to the cobblestones. (Out right 
with J.) 

Mrs. Fairmour — Why, Arthur ! Are you crazy ? 

Mr. Fairmour — Does Helen love that man? 

Mrs. Fairmour — O, Arthur, you have broken her 
heart. 

Mr. Fairmour — I have made it possible for her to 
be happy, when otherwise she could never have been. 
(Ex. L.) 

ftipp — (R.) Miss Helen is at the entrance, mad- 
am, and has the BUNCH with her. 

Mrs. Fairmour — Why, didn't you leave the 
BUNCH as I told youT 

Ripp — (Chin high.) H'im quite sorry, madam, 
but hit was Miss 'Ellen's horders, madam. 

(Enter loudly, right, Helen, Rosa, Jolly, Blarney 
and Jack. Blarney with baggage.) 

Helen — (Quite at home.) Hello, folks. Why, 
where is everybody ? (Starts left, meeting Mr. Fair* 
mour, who rushes in.) 

67 



Mr. Fairmour — (Greeting her.) Welcome home, 
Helen. Why here is little Rosa. Glad to see you, 
dear. How is Jack? 

Rosa — O, he's alright. Just a little embarrassed, 
that's all. Come round, Jack. 

Mr. Fairmour — Why, hello, Jack. (They shake 
hands.) I'm glad to see you. Did you bring the 
deeds to the ranch along? 

Jack — Why, ah, O, ah, I've changed my mind. 

Mr, Fairmour — How many times are you going to 
change your mind? 

Jack — Until I get it right. 

Helen — Jolly, show Rosa and Blarney (Looking 
round) and Ripp the house. 

Blarney — (Patting Jack on shoulder, which top- 
ples him forward.) It's coming, Laddie. Brace up. 
(Passes on with others, left.) 

Mr. Fairmour — (As if to follow out left.) I think 
I had better go, too. 

Helen — (Catching him by sleeve and drawing him 
back.) Not until you have answered some ques- 
tions. 

Mr. Fairmour — O, I am quite well, thank you. 

Helen — So am I. That's what's the matter. I am 
not only well, but I am happy. (Indicates necklace 
she is wearing.) And here is the cause for it. This 
is the deed to Lone Star. The price paid for it is 
my heart, and there (indicating Jack) is the man I 
traded with. What do you think of my bargain? 

Mr. Fairmuor — You cheated me, Jack. 

Jack — (Laughing.) I had to, Mr. Fairmour, to 
make a trade. But I gave all I had, and I hope you 
can find it in your heart to forgive me. 

Mr. Fairmour — (To Helen.) Do you love him, 
Helen? 

Helen — Do I love him? (Starts as if to rush to 
Jack.) 

Mr. Fairmour — (Restraining her.) You needn't 
demonstrate. Just answer. 

Helen — (Seriously and slowly.) Yes, I do love 
him. 

Mr. Fairmour— That is all I wish to know; for 
already. I know he loves you, and is worthy. My 
children, I not only wish you great happiness, but 

68 



I believe it is yours. Draw on daddy for the w.d- 
ding expenses, and if you like, have every cowboy 
on the ranch stand up with me. 

END. 



KIND WORDS CONCERNING THE PLAY. 

By those who have tried it. 
Malesus, Tenn. 

We are overrun with compliments on "THE WINNING OF 
LATANE." Every fellow played his part well. It is not 
at all as difficult as it seemed, and certainly gets the peo- 
ple. It laughs the stubborn into sympathetic tears, then 
turns them loose to laugh some more. 

Indeed, it is a play with a "heart-pull." Settlement 
goes forward today. Let me have the new play. 

— Miss Elizabeth Jackson, Expression Teacher. 

Brodhead High School, Brodhead, Ky. 

Our high school pupils have just given "THE WINNING 
OF LATANE CASHTON." It was a great success. Be- 
yond question the best Home Talent play ever given 
through this section. The audience of about 500 people 
was spellbound by the splendid climaxes. 

It is certainly a great play and well worth time and 
trouble to produce. IT PAYS. 

— Frank L. Teuton, Dept. of Grammar. 

Spring City, Tenn. 

On last Thursday night, we presented "THE WINNING 
OF LATANE CASHTON" to the largest audience we have 
ever had in our High School auditorium. 

It is by far the best play ever given here. Everyone 
went away expressing the highest compliments. 

It PAYS to get up a play of merit. YOURS HAS IT. 

— P. R. Jenkins, Prin. 

Atwood, Tenn. 

We played "THE WINNING OF LATANE CASHTON" 
Thursday night with much success. It is by far the most 
effective play I have ever given. People here say it is the 
best they ever saw. IT PAID WELL. 

— F. L. Browning, Prin. 



(NOTE — The above objection as to length hag been 
overcome in the revision. N. D. Co.) 

The songs mentioned in this play may be left out, but 
we urge their use. Your local music director can supply 
them, or, if not, we carry them in stock and can supply 
them, at the following prices: 

DEARIE 35 cents 

DADDY 25 cents 

CASH WITH ORDER. 

69 



The Valedictory 



By 
Oliver P. Parker 



Copyrighted, 1916 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



AT VASSAR: 

KITTY FRENCH 
POLLY WARD 
MONA DABNEY 
OLIVIA THORNHILL 
MISS HOLCOMB 
MAID 
HESTER DAIR 

AT YALE: 

JIMMIE JENKINS 
JOEY TURNER 
FRANK MITCHELLE 
BILLY BURKETT 
TOMMIE TODD 
BOB STANAGE 
FREDERICK DAIR 



ALSO: 



AUNT MARTHA 
MRS. SCANLIN 



NOTE — This play was designed especially for com- 
mencement exercises, and will give you satisfaction. 



The Valedictory 



ACT I. 

SCENE — Girls' room in Vassar. Piano Left. 
Sofa, with abundance of pillows, Right, and well 
back. Study table in Front Center, with chairs on 
either side. Walls decorated with banners and pic- 
tures to give effect of school life. 



Group any number of girls on stage for the open- 
ing song, which should be begun on rising curtain 
and sung with "College Spirit." At conclusion of 
song — 

Kitty — (Advancing to center and exclaiming with 
gusto.) Breathes there the girl with soul so dead, 
Who ne'er unto herself hath said, That is my dear 
old college song! 

All — (Nearly together.) Bravo! Bravo! (Lib- 
eral applause by girls.) 

Mona — Give us another one, Kit. 

Kitty — Alright. I will give you a new one, girls. 
It goes something like this — (Drawling) — "Mary 
had a little lamb" — 

All — (Throwing pillows at her.) Stop it! Chop 
it! Let it rest! (Etc.) 

Kitty — Hold on, girls. I got started wrong. Here 
it is — 

Mary never had a lamb, 

She only thought she did ; 
And all the stories you have heard, 
Were stories of a kid. 

Olivia — You horrid thing. Just for that we fine 
you a five-pound box of Huyler's. 

Polly — Most "learned judgment!" 

Mona — Indeed it is. We do not propose to take 
such poetry unless it is sweetened. 

All— Pay up, Kit. 

Kitty — Girls, you are too exacting. 

Mona — No, it isn't that. We are hungry. 

Polly — If she refuses to pay take her to the bath. 
(Girls all gather round Kitty.) 

Kitty — I haven't any chocolate, girls; so you will 



have to give me the bath. (Girls start Left with her, 
meeting maid carrying a large package.) 

Maid — A package for Miss Thornhill. 

Kitty — (Taking package.) Here it is, girls — just 
in time to save my life. I wonder how it got by that 
new hall manager. 

Maid — She had a suspicion, but I convinced her 
that it was entirely too large a package for choco- 
lates, and she passed it unopened. (Exit, L.) 

Polly — She is going to be a great favorite here. 

Kitty — (Advancing to table.) If this is all choco- 
late, girls, I can pay you with good measure. (Pro- 
ceeds to open box as girls gather round in semi-circle, 
leaving Kitty exposed.) 

Mona — I'm so glad Mary never had any lamb. 

Olivia — I'm delighted that Kit has a Chocolate 
Friend. 

Polly — Isn't he a dear? 

Kitty — (Removes top of box and takes out a large 
card, which she holds up and reads.) "COMPLI- 
MENTS OF THE CANDY KID." 

Mona — Bless his dear old heart. Give us the mu- 
sic, Pol. (Pol sits at piano and strikes up "The 
Candy Kid," which girls all sing. Here girls may 
couple off and dance round table, or sing the song 
straight. Just before song is concluded Kitty goes to 
box and takes out large package wrapped with tissue 
paper, exposing a small billy goat. She screams and 
instantly places it on table side to audience. (This 
goat should be well made and represent as nearly as 
possible a live goat.) 

Kitty — There it is, girls, help yourselves. (Girls 
should be arranged in semi-circle round table, and 
when they see goat the front row faints and falls 
into arms of second row. ) 

Polly — (Imitating goat.) Ba-ah! Ba-ah! Girls 
recover and rush back from center.) 

Kitty — (Advancing to table.) Poor little Billy 
kid ! I'm not afraid of you. 

Mona— BILLY -KID I We thought he was a 
CANDY KID. 

Olivia — He's nothing but a phlegmatic Billy Goat. 

Kitty — Charles Major shall pay for this. 

Polly — How do you know that Charlie sent it ? 



Kitty — Because he is always trying to KID me. 
(Girls faint and sigh. Some may fan the others.) 

Mona — (Advancing and laying hands on Kitty.) 
To the bath! To the bath! Come on, girls. (All 
start for Kitty.) 

Kitty — (Kesisting.) Let me explain. Wait a min- 
ute, girls. (Girls rush her along left. As they are 
about to exit gong sounds. Girls stop and count 
eight. Kitty walks back to center contentedly.) That 
is the first time I was ever glad to hear that old 
study bell. 

Polly — The relief is only temporary, Kit. Tomor- 
row night if you have not delivered the chocolates, 
you will receive your prescribed punishment. ( Girls 
going left.) 

Olivia — Take care of the kid. 

Mona — Don't let him take cold. 

Polly — I hope he keeps you awake. (Exit, all ex- 
cept Kitty, left.) 

Kitty — (Stroking goat on chin.) Poor little billy 
goat. I'm not afraid of you. (Discovers that he 
holds paper in mouth, which she takes and reads.) 

"I'm just a little billy goat, 
They call me Candy Kid ; 
If you would know how sweet I ami 
Just take away the lid." 

(Takes up goat and examines it, finding that back 
is removable. This she removes and cranes neck to 
look over into goat.) You dear, old billy goat. 
(Pours out candy on table and takes a piece.) O, 
you dear old billy goat ! (Embraces him.) Ha, ha. 
"Many a gem of purest ray serene, 

The fond unf athomed caves of Billy goats bear ; 
And many a co-ed goes hungry, 

Because she did not know it was there." 

My poetry may be a bit oil', but this exquisite 
chocolate makes up the difference. (Knock on door, 
left. Hurriedly puts candy back into goat, replacing 
the lid.) Come. 

Mona — (Entering left, book in hand.) Kit are 
you going to take this rotten old Political Economy 
this year? 

Kitty — O, I suppose so. How do you like it, Mona ? 



Mona — I like it not at all — (Sniffing.) Say v Kit, 
don't I smell chocolate ? 

Kitty — No. It is the billy goat you smell. 

Mona — Tell it to the birds, Kit. My nose is bet- 
ter than that. 

Kitty — I had a piece, but I gave it to the goat. 

Mona — Then you love this old billy goat better 
than you do me. 

Kitty — Not at all, dear. He was handy, that is 
all. But we were talking Political Economy. Go on 
and tell me what you think of it. 

Mona — There isn't anything to it, except a lot of 
miserly old rules about making money. Just listen. 
(Reads from book.) "The fundmanetal principal of 
Political Economy may be expressed as 'PRESENT 
SACRIFICE FOR FUTURE GAIN.' " Now what 
do you get out of that ? 

Kitty — Why, er, that means that we are to make 
sacrifices TODAY if we would enjoy TOMORROW. 

Mona — I don't agree with you. 

Kitty — Well, then, what does it mean ? 

Mona — I prefer to believe it means that we are to 
enjoy today what somebody else sacrificed for yes- 
terday. 

Kitty — Or, in other words, if Adam had not eaten 
the apple we would today be in paradise. 

Mona — Exactly so. 

Kitty — But Adam ate the apple; and if the rule 
would not work in the Garden of Eden, we cannot 
expect it to work in Vassar. 

Mona — Of course not, and I don't see — say, Kit, 
Billy goat, or no Billy goat, I smell chocolate. 

Kitty — We are discussing Political Economy. 

Mona — Let the Political Economy rot. Bring on 
the chocolate. 

— Kitty — (Reaching for goat, and passing it to 
Mona.) Help yourself. 

Mona — Ah, Kit. Quit-yer-kiddin'. I'm hungry. 

Kitty — Then eat. 

Mona — I'm not so very fond of rare Billy goat. 

Kitty — You remind me of that fellow who swam 
the Hellespont. What did he say? "Swimming in 
the main, yet dying of thirst." Something like that, 
wasn't it? 



6 



Mona — Served him: right? Why didn't he take a 
drink ? 

Kitty — Why don't you eat chocolate? 

Mona — I suppose it is because the goat got it all. 

Kitty — (Handing her paper. Here is a message 
I found in the goat's moath. 

Mona — It's a wonder he did not eat that, too. 
(Reading.) 

"I'm just a little Billy goat, 
They call me Candy Kid ; 
If you would know how sweet I am 
Just take away the lid." 

Now isn't that just like a Freshman. (Removes 
lid and looks over into goat.) Oh! Kit! What a 
clever way to smuggle you chocolates. (Takes some.) 
And all the girls ran away from it. 

Kitty — All but one. 

Mona — (Taking another piece.) And she never 
runs. 

Kitty — No, not so long as there is a Billy goat full 
of chocolate round. I'm afraid you will some day 
exchange your little picture of home for a box of 
bon-bons. 

Kitty — (Unwrapping a piece of candy and read- 
ing the wrapper.) O, Mon, just listen. "The girl 
who finds this piece of candy may have some fun 
out of the other girls by explaining that this goat 
contains Huyler's new candy called POPS. She may 
describe the new candy and when asked for a piece 
give, instead, a pop on the cheek.'" Now doesn't that 
sound silly? 

Mona — (Taking another piece.) Just like a High 
School trick we used to play — called Letter Fly. It 
is quite too undignified for college graduates, my 
dear. (Takes another piece.) 

Kitty — O, I don't know about that. I feel just 
like giving some girl a good pop. Let's see how it 
works. (Reads.) "How to organize a pop club. 
Seat the intended victim across table." (To Mona.) 
You sit over there, dear. 

Mona — You are not going to begin on me? 

Kitty — You bet I am. (Takes goat.) Charity be- 
gins at home. 

Mona — (Rising) and CHARITY is going home 
right now. I'll send you a victim. 



Kitty — O, come on. Don't be contrary. Siay and 
see the fun. I'll be easy. Just want to get onto the 
rules you know. 

Mona — (Returning and sitting at table.) Now, 
don't forget you said you would be easy. 

Kitty — (Tying towel over her eyes.) That's a 
good girl. 

Mona — Say, Kit; let's play puss wants a corner. 

Kitty — That is entirely too childish. Remember 
we are COLLEGE girls. 

Mona — That may excuse such foolishness as this, 
though I'm afraid it is unpardonable. 

Kitty — We have done sillier things than this, Mon. 
Now fold your arms on the table, and lean well for- 
ward so that you may listen intently to what I shall 
say. (Taking chair opposite.) The chocolate I am 
about to give you is Huyler's greatest creation. It 
is better than his famous kisses, and is called POPS. 
If you would like to enjoy these delicious sweets you 
should by all means join a POP club. Members of 
this club are entitled to as much of the celebrated 
candy as they may desire at all times." Doesn't that 
sound good? 

Mona — How long is this foolishness to last ? 

Kitty — Aren't you comfortable, dear? 

Mona — No. I am wondering what you are going 
to do to nue. 

Kitty — I'm going to give vou one of these luscious 
POPS. 

Mona — I wish you would not be so long about it. 

Kitty — (Pleased.) Now you have said enough. 
(Trying her arms, and to audience.) Am I right or 
left handed. (Selecting the right.) This will do. 
(To Mona.) Did I understand you to say you want- 
ed a pop? 

Mona — I think I am entitled to it. 

Kitty — (Laughing.) So do I. (Business of pop- 
ping her on cheek. Mona screams slightly, placing 
hands to face and leaning head on table. Kitty takes 
goat, and rushes round to her.) Here, here, here. 
Take one, two, three, a dozen; just so you get in a 
good humor with me. 

Mona — (Removing towel.) I'm not able to eat 
now. (Holding jaw.) What good is chocolate when 
a fellow's jaw is broken? Nothing but revenge will 



satisfy me now. Polly Ward is my victim, and here 
she comes. PUT THE LID ON THE GOAT. 
(Girls hurriedly replace lid. Enter Polly, left.) 

Mona — Gome in, Pol. 

Polly — (Book in hand.) I shall go crazy if I read 
more of this Political Economy business. It was in- 
tended for stingy old men. What do you girls think 
of it? 

Mona — I like it, Pol. 

Kitty — It teaches a great principle. 

Polly — Then I failed to see the point. All I could 
get out of it was a lot of rules and stuff about 
"PRESENT SACRIFICE AND FUTURE GAIN" 
business. That doesn't mean anything to me. Dad 
looks after the sacrifice business, and I have only to 
do with the gain. 

Mona — You will like it better when you see its 
beauty. Now, let me (takes up piece of chocolate 
from table) give you a concrete illustration. 

Polly — (Going closer and interested.) Say, Mon, 
isn't that chocolate? 

Mona — It is, but we must use it for illustration 
purposes only. Now you take this good candy and 
place it close to your lips, holding it there until you 
are very anxious to rob it of the sweetness it con- 
tains. 

Polly — Gee ! I'm that now. Shall I proceed ? 

Mona — Indeed, no. Instead, you must place it 
back on the table and save it for tomorrow. That, 
my dear, is POLITICAL ECONOMY in its every 
day working dress. 

Kitty — Isn't it beautiful ? 

Polly — No, it is not beautiful. It is extremely hor- 
rid, and I'll have none of your "Every day working 
dress business." Tomorrow I may be dead, and what 
good would a miserable little old piece of stale choc- 
olate do me then ? Huh, not me. I'll take my bon- 
bons and flowers TODAY IF YOU PLEASE. 
(Starts for chocolate.) 

Mona — (Restraining her.) Not yet. There are 
some very important ceremonies first. 

Polly— CEREMONIES ! I thought we had gone 
through with them. 

Kitty— You will think differently when you have 
passed through. Why don't you go ahead, Mon ? 



Mona — (To Kitty.) I*m recruiting my strength. 
(To Polly.) If you are not interested in Political 
Economy, Pol, perhaps you will be interested in our 
new club. Don't you want to join? 

Polly — I thought I was a member of everything in 
Vassar. Is it something new? 

Mona — Entirely new and interesting. Known as 
the POP Club. Members are entitled to all the 
candy they want. You are invited to join. Kit is 
a member. 

Polly — I'm ready. Bring forth the goat. 

Kitty — You are the goat, my dear. 

Polly — As usual. 

Mona — Do you want to join? 

Polly — All the candy I can eat ? 

Mona — All you can eat. 

Polly — Any time I want it. 

Mona — And no questions asked. 

Polly — I am ready. 

Mona — (Raps on table.) The Pop Club will 
please come to order. (To Kitty.) Executioner con- 
duct the candidate to the chair of persecution blind- 
folded. (Kitty adjusts towel on Polly and seats her 
in chair at table. 

Polly — I feel as if someone were going to get hurt. 

Mona — Don't you trust the members of this club ? 

Polly — Implicitly. I am willing to suffer. 

Kitty — Then read her the law. 

Mona — Do you renounce Political Economy in all 
its branches ? 

Polly — Most /graciously. 

Mona — Will you forever defend the members^ of 
this club, and refrain from striking them, or pulling 
their hair, or pinching, or sticking pins, or throwing 
water, or reading their love letter, etc., etp., and no 
matter what happens to you on this occasion you 
promise to hold no malice against the present mem- 
bers of this club, but will look to the next candidate 
for your revenge ? 

Kitty — The answer is, 'I commit myself unreserv- 
edly." 

Polly — I commit myself unreservedly. 

Mona — (To Kitty.) Do you think she means that? 

Kitty — She is ready. 



10 



Mona — (Getting ready to strike her.) It seems 
cruel. 

Polly — (A bit anxious.) What seems cruel? 

Mona — That you should suffer thus. But be brave, 
my dear. It won't last long, and then will follow 
the sweetest chocolate feast you have ever enjoyed. 
Now pay close attention. The candy dispensed to 
members of this club is a new creation of the cele- 
brated candy maker, Mr. Huyler, and is beyond 
quibble the greatest confection on the market. The 
sweetness and flavor beggar description. To eat it 
is to love it, and one good pop makes you a life 
member. 

Polly — Don't keep me waiting, girls. Can't you 
give me a sample pop? 

Mona — (To Kitty.) You heard her. 

Kitty — Easy, Mon. 

Mona — Easy nothing! Why didn't you think of 
that when you were master of ceremonies? (To Pol- 
ly.) Alright, we have two kinds of pops. We have 
small, and we have large pops. Which will you 
take? 

Polly — I'll take a large one, of course. 

Mona — (Business of popping her on cheek. Girls 
rush round with goat and offer her chocolate.) 

Potty— Who hit me? 

Kitty — You said you would look to the next mem- 
ber for your revenge. 

Polly — And so I will. Bring on Olivia Thornhill. 

Mona — (Offering chocolate from goat.) Here, Pol, 
you are forgetting the privilege of members. Have 
another pop. 

Polly — (Holding jaw.) No more pops, please, un- 
til I have disposed of the one I have. It's a silly 
trick, but I must confess it works well enough, and 
is better than being buried alive with that old Po- 
litical Economy. (Takes some chocolate, and dis- 
covers that it comes from goat.) Now, what do you 
■think of that! (Knock on door, left.) 

Kitty— Sh-h-h. That's the Hall Manager. Hide 
quick. Go into my bedroom. (Mona and Polly rush 
out, right. Kitty going to door, left.) Come in, 
Miss Holcomb. 

Miss Holcomb — (Entering and looking around.) I 
thought I heard voices. 

n 



Kitty — I was reading this Political Economy 
aloud. I thought I might better understand it. 

Miss H. — That is a very bad habit, my dear. And, 
besides, it disturbs others in the hall who may wish 
to study. Shall I assist you with the work ? 

Kitty — O, thank you so much, but I will not trou- 
ble you. Perhaps if I hammer it out by myself it will 
do me more good. 

Miss H. — (Turning left.) That is right, dear. 
Only you must not HAMMER quite so loud. (Exit 
left.) 

Kitty — (Making wry face at door.) I'll hammer 
just as much as I please. (Brightens, and to audi- 
ence.) Now for a real live joke. The girls have not 
seen the new Hall Manager. I shall make them be- 
lieve she is a new student. They will take her into 
the Pop Club, and, O, such a joke. (Calling.) Girls ! 
Girls! Come out. The storm is over. (Mona and 
Polly enter, right.) 

Polly— Who was that, Kit? 

Mona — She's fresh alright, I bet she was that 
new student. Let's get acquainted and make her a 
member of our Pop Club. 

Kitty — (Delightedly.) The very thing, girls. It 
will do her good. She is from Texas, and they say 
she is very rich, and spoiled. All our Texas girls 
have made good, but it was due to the treatment we 
gave them. 

Polly — We will give her a treatment, alright, al- 
right. 

Mona — Send for the victim. 

Kitty— {Gomg left.) I will go for her. Now, 
girls, she may be troublesome, but you must not let 
her out talk you. 

Polly — FOUR years in Vassar and out-talked by a 
FRESHMAN ! 

Kitty— We shall see. (Exit left.) 

Mona — What if she refuses to join ? 

Polly — That would be a good reason for making 
her do so. 

Mona — Maybe she does not like chocolate. 

Polly — I'm not going to believe any such mean 
thing of her. I do not hesitate to punish, but I re- 
fuse to disgrace her. 



12 



Mona — I would rather try this fool joke on some 
of the girls we know. They won't squeal. 

Polly — If you are afraid just get behind the piano 
and leave her in my hands. 

Mona — O, I'm not thinking of running away when 
you are in danger. You may later have need of my 
testimony to establish your self-defense. 

Polly — Here she comes. (Knock on door, left.) 
Come. 

Miss H. — (Entering left, firm and positive.) What 
is this noise about? 

Polly — (Jumping up and meeting her cordially.) 
Why, come in. This is the Texas girl, I believe. I 
am Polly Ward, and mighty glad to see you. (Mona 
rises.) And this is my old chum, Mona Dabney. 
(Miss Holcomb looks them over in a dignified man- 
ner, a bit confused.) 

Mona — (Advancing.) Delighted, I assure you. We 
have been planning to get round to see you, and feel 
ashamed that we have not given you a better time. 
But we are going to make up for that. Won't you 
be seated? 

Miss H. — Thank you, no. I came to remonstrate 
with you just a bit. Being new in the school, I do 
not wish to make any enemies. I desire that all the 
girls shall like me very much, and without being se- 
vere I am going to ask one more time that the order 
in this room be improved upon. Otherwise, I shall 
be compelled to do my duty. 

Polly — O, come now. Don't feel that you must 
learn all there is to know, the first year in college. 

Mona — That is good advice, my friend. When 
you have been in college as long as Polly and I you 
will see things different. Your will be more gen- 
erous ; your views will broaden and — 

Polly — The girls will like you better if you join 
their clubs and take part in making life brighter. We 
have some very fine clubs. 

Mona — The best club in Vassar is the Pop Club. 
You should join it, dear. Members get all the choco- 
late they want at all times. Never any questions 
asked after one becomes a member. And — 

Polly — Mon and I belong, and we invite you to 
join. 

Miss H. — (Severely.) You girls may think such 

13 



insubordination as this is going with me, but you 
will soon find it is not. You may as well understand 
this now as later. 

Polly — (To Mona,) Isn't she fresh? A pop will 
do her good. (To Miss H.) Come, don't be offend- 
ed. We want to be your friends, and if you will 
permit us we will make your stay here much more 
pleasant than it could otherwise be. 

Miss H. — (To audience.) I suppose I must humor 
the joke in order to catch up with them. (To girls.) 
O, pardon me, girls, if I seemed contrary. I will be 
amenable. 

Mona— ( Collapsing on sofa.) AMENABLE! 
Gosh, I thought you said she was from TEXAS. 
Look it up quick, Pol. (Polly hastily turns pages 
of dictionary.) 

Polly — It's alright, Mon. She means she will join. 

Mona — Thank heaven, it is no worse than that. 
Bring forth the goat. (Polly brings out the goat 
and places it on table in front of Miss H., who is 
now seated in chair at table.) 

Miss H. — What a nice little Billy goat ! 

Mona — Awfully nice, except he butts like fury. 
Are you afraid of him ? 

Miss H. — O, not a bit. (Strokes goat on back.) 
Good little Billy. (Discovers that back is loose and 
removes it, craning neck to look over. Discovers the 
chocolates and rises angrily.) And this (pointing 
at goat) is how you girls have been getting choco- 
lates against the rules! (Remembers.) O, I think 
I shall greatly enjoy being a member of your club. 
Go on and initiate me. 

Polly — Do you promise not to squeal ? 

Miss H. — I don't look like a pig, do I ? 

Polly — Your answers are entirely satisfactory. 
(To Mona. Prepare the victim. 

Mona — (Adjusting towel on Miss H.'s eyes.) It is 
best that you now be blind. 

Miss H. — O girls, this is great fun. It takes me 
back to the time when I was a schoolgirl. (Mona and 
Polly look uneasy.) 

Mona — (To Polly.) That has been a long time, 
Pol ; for she is as gray as a rat. You must be easy 
on her. 

Polly — Yea, a long time. Ha, ha, ha. But I mean 

14 



to take her back further than that. If my strength 
holds out, I shall take her back to the days of Sam- 
son and the Philistine. 

Mono—tiler gray hairs deserve better treatment. 

Polly— She said she was AMENABLE, didn't 
she? 

Mona—O, I forgot that. Go as far as you like. 

Polly— ( Taking position opposite Miss H.) Is 
your desire to become a member of this club the re- 
sult of careful investigation of the standing of its 
members, and the benefits to be derived from their 
association and help? 

Miss H. — You forgot the chocolate. 

Mono— That comes later. 

Polly— You must not interrupt me. Now, listen. 
Do you seek membership in this club because you 
like its members, or because we offer you chocolates 
at all times? 

Miss H. — Ostensibly because you offer me choco- 
late; PRIMARILY because it affords me the oppor- 
tunity to learn who its members are. 

Mona— -That don't sound good to me. I'm getting 

Polly— Then get under the piano. Those big 
words don't mean anything. All freshmen use them. 
(To Miss H.) The members of this club trust you 
to keep its secrets and pledge you everlasting sup- 
port in all you may undertake. In return, we re- 
quire that you agree in the presence of this witness 
never to feel angry at any member for anything that 
may happen to you tonight; but you are to look to 
the next new member for your revenge. 

Miss H.—l cannot believe that you are going to 
be rude. 

Polly — You are very fortunate indeed m that re- 
spect. 

Miss H.— (Taking out pencil from her hair.) Who 
did you say are the present members of this club? 

Polly— Kitty French, Olivia Thornhill (Miss H. 
writes hurriedly) , Mona Dabney and myself. 

Miss H. — Thank you. 

Mona — Better hurry along, Pol. 

Polly — Now, Miss, er, ah, er, Applicant, we are 
approaching the last and important steps of this ini- 
tiation. It will soon be over, and you will then be a 



15 



member in full standing. The only further pledge 
we ask of you is that you will bear in silence any 
pain due to overeating these rich chocolate pops, and 
never tell where you got them. They are worth a 
much greater sacrifice than this, for they are rich 
and luscious. The filler is a Maraschino cherrj^, can- 
died and ripened in the sun — then filled to overflow- 
ing with choice wine, long cooled in the deep delved 
cellars of the East. Around both of these there is 
wrapped a coating of rich chocolate, fit only for the 
gods. Now will you accept the first luscious pop 
from the generous hand (draws back to strike) now 
outstretched to you. 

Mona — The answer is, "Lay on, McDuff." 

Miss H. — "Lay on, McDuff." (Business of pop- 
ping her. Mona pops her hands secretly to give ef- 
fect of big pop. Miss H. rises slowly, reels and faints 
in chair. Girls run round with candy.) 

Polly — Here, here, here. For heaven's sake, girl, 
take some candy. 

Mona — (Shaking her.) Speak to me. Say some- 
thing. (Enter Kitty L.) 

Polly — O, Kit, I have killed her. 

Mona — Bring the smelling sauce quick. 

Kitty — Great Scott, girls! This is the new hall 
manager. Now we are in it. 

Polly and Mona— (Together.) THE NEW HALL 
MANAGER ! OH ! (Collapse in each other's arms.) 

Kitty — Send for the doctor, girls. Be quick. 

Polly — And get fired ! Let's hide her. 

Mona — Let's take her to the bottom of the steps. 

Kitty — And. find her there ! 

Mona — Yes. Fell down and broke her neck. 

Polly — (Taking hold.) Lend a hand, girls. She 
weighs a ton. (All take her up and out left, Kitty 
turning back at door.) 

Kitty — Oh, this is too terrible. (Weeping.) We 
shall all be expelled, disgraced. Oh, oh, oh, oh. 

Mona — (Entering left, followed by Polly.) Hide 
that Billy goat ! Get to scheming. 

Kitty — O, this is dreadful ! What do you girls 
mean by taking such liberties with the teachers. 

Polly — We didn't know she was a teacher. 

Mona — And she took the names of every member 
of this club. 

16 



Kitty — You mean thing. Did you tell I belong? 

Mona — She has a written list. I see her scheme. 
She has caught the whole bunch. 

Polly — We shall all be sent home. 

Kitty — Who can prove that we did it? 

Mona — She can. 

Kitty — Scoot out to your rooms, and think hard. 
Maybe we can scheme out of it. 

Polly — Let's stay here and suffer together. (Enter 
Hester, left, carrying small bundle which she de- 
livers to Kitty.) 

Hester — Here is your embroidery, Miss French. 
I'm very sorry I could not deliver it sooner. 

Kitty — O, it don't matter about the shirt waist 
now. I shall never need it. Tell us what you saw 
at the bottom of the stairs. 

Hester — (Puzzled.) What has happened ? What 
is the matter with everybody. Can I do anything? 

Polly — You can do everything you try. 

Mona — Pull us out of this hole and we will give 
you anything you ask. 

Hester — I don't understand. 

Kitty — Let me explain. Girls, we can trust Hes- 
ter. We were playing some jokes and the girls got 
too rough, and, and, O, it's too dreadful to mention. 

Polly — (To Hester.) If you want to help us go 
down to the Hall Manager's room and see what is 
happening. Don't let anyone see you, and conue back 
at once and let us know. 

Hester — I will do all I can for you. (Exit, left.) 

Kitty — It is shameful to set her to spying like that. 
•She is the only girl in this college who comes and 
goes at will. 

Mona — Poor thing. It is shameful, but we are in 
bad. 

Kitty — That is no reason why we should drag an 
innocent girl in. Hester has had a hard time for the 
past three years trying to make her way. I can't 
see why she prefers to stay here or anywhere else. 
We who are rich and careless know very little of the 
hardships she is bearing. 

Polly — That is quite true, Kit, and I have a great 
idea. Hester's life cannot be happy here, and maybo 
she would not care very much if she had to leave 
college. She has no social position or popularity to 

17 



sacrifice like we have. Let's make up a purse, we 
have plenty, and get her to confess to the faculty 
that she did this thing. 

Kitty — I refuse to make the offer to her, but if she 
agrees to it I'm in my part, money, diamonds, or 
something else. 

Mona — I'm in with my pa.rt. ( Enter Hester, left. ) 

Hester — The doctor is attending Miss Holcomb, 
and says she will be alright presently. 

Polly — Then get ready for the Court Martial! 

Mona — Hester, we are in deep trouble, and want 
you to help us. You are not able to do the work you 
are carrying here, and we thought perhaps you 
would not mind leaving — provided we gave you 
plenty of money to go on. Confess to the faculty 
that you did this hurt to Miss Holcomb and we will 
give you anything you ask. 

Polly — (Removing diamond ring and giving it 
to Hester.) Yes, here is my donation. (Hester looks 
bewildered.) 

Mona — (Giving her diamond brooch.) Here is 
what I will give you. 

Kitty — (Bringing armful of fine dresses from 
room, right.) And here are the best dresses I have. 
The shoes and stockings go with them, and my 
pocket book which has one hundred dollars in it. 

Hester — (Not too seriously.) Is it possible that 
you are serious? 

Polly — Never more so. 

Mona — It is quite too little. 

Kitty — We will give you more if you ask it. 

Hester — How could I? (Looks at rings.) O, 
aren't they pretty? I never had a diamond on my 
hands before. (Examines clothes.) And these pret- 
ty gowns. How I have dreamed of them. But I had 
always thought I could possess them only through 
hard, meritorious work. And you only ask that I 
confess to the faculty that I hurt Miss Holcomb, and 
go away from college? 

Mona — That is all, my dear. 

Polly — You will do that mwch for us, won't you, 
dear ? If we go it will be such a disgrace. 

Hester — Yes, that is right, it will be no disgrace 
for me to go. I'm not wanted here. Everybody 
makes me feel that I'm out of place. At first I 

18 



thought I could work through it all, but the way 
does not grow brighter. My strength is fast failing 
me, and, sooner or later, I must go anyway. But, 
listen to me, girls of ease and luxury — I have been 
content to wait on you at table, mend your clothes 
and even wash for you, in order that I might stay 
here and freeze in the ice of your mistreatment, hop- 
ing ultimately to win your love and esteem. I am 
hurt to find that my efforts amongst you deserve no 
higher esteem than this. The fight is telling on me, 
and I feel as if I shall not be able to carry it miuch 
further. But if I fail, girls, be assured it will be 
the lack of PHYSICAL STRENGTH, and NEVER 
MORAL COURAGE. Here are your diamonds. 
(Starts left.) 

Kitty — Stop, Hester. Let us explain. 

Hester — No, I will not remain here to be insulted. 

Mona — We are getting deeper into the mire. 
Where will it all end? 

Polly — Let's apologize to Hester and commit sui- 
cide. 

Kitty — Wait, Hester. I have not paid you for the 
work. How much is it? 

Hester — A dime will do. 

Kitty — A dime is not enough. Here is a dollar. 

Hester — Only a dime, please. I'm not a beggar. 

Kitty — You are a dear, good girl, Hester, and 1 
want you to believe I am your friend. 

Hester — Then pay the price asked and let me go. 

Kitty — Go to your rooms, girls. I have something 
to say to Hester. (Polly and Mona start left.) 

Mona — (Approaching Hester.) We love you, Hes- 
ter, and in the bottom of our hearts we know you 
are worthy. 

Polly — I'm sorry, too, Hester. (Kisses her as she 
passes out left with Mona.) 

Kitty — Hester, I cannot tell you how sorry and 
ashamed I am that this thing has occurred. I have 
been watching your work here, and many a time 
have thought I would gladly exchange my wealth 
and social position for your determination and abil- 
ities. You are the greatest student in Vassar, and I 
humbly beg your pardon for helping to make you 
believe you are despised. Won't you say you for- 
give me? 

19 



Hester — I was weak to show the hurt, that was all. 
You have been good to me many times, and I should 
not have forgotten it. Indeed, I forgive you freely. 
You see with me it is a hard fight. May I tell you 
my secret? 

Kitty — Please do. It will show me that you do 
forgive me, And maybe I can help you in some way. 

Hester — You can help me, but your love and sym- 
pathy will go much further than your money. I'm 
a poor girl, as you know. My father and mother — 
God bless them — are making every sacrifice in the 
world in order that I may remain here and finish my 
work. I do not ask anything more than health and 
courage to do this. 

Kitty — Won't you let me help you ? Just a small 
loan. You can pay it back when it is convenient. 

Hester — Thank you ever so much, but I must re- 
fuse your kind offer. It would lessen my pleasure in 
the triumph if I accept aid in attaining it. I shall 
always remember your kind offer, though, and if 
possible show my appreciation ; for I believe it comes 
from your heart. (Knock on door, left.) 

Kitty — Come! (Enter maid, left.) 

Maid — I am looking for you, Miss Dair. A spe- 
cial delivery for you. 

Hester — For me! (Takes letter and looks at card 
on corner. Ex. maid, L.) This letter contains great 
happiness or great disappointment for me, and I'm 
afraid to determine which. Won't you read it, 
please ? 

Kitty — (Taking letter and glancing at card on 
corner.) Why, it is from Mr. Cedasco, the greatest 
producer in New York. What on earth can it mean ? 
(Hurriedly opens and reads.) Your manuscript, 
"LONE STAR," has been received. Undoubtedly 
you have a great play here. Your terms have been 
accepted, and it may please you to know that re- 
hearsals have begun. We do not desire to make a 
single change, except as to the staging. The cast is 
composed of New York's leading talent, and every- 
thing possible being done to insure proper scenic 
effects. Your royalties will be huge, no doubt, but 
if vou prefer to sell for cash we make you an offer 
of "TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS for the copy- 
right. However, we advise you to take the royalties. 

20 



Please let us hear fromi you at once. (Signed) David 
Cedasco. 

Hester — O, my poor heart will burst with joy! 

Kitty — (Throwing arms about her. You perfect 
dear. Let me call in the girls and tell them. 

Hester — No, I pledge you to secrecy. No one must 
know this. The reason will come out later. May I 
dedicate it to you, my friend? 

Kitty — Can you find it in your heart to honor me 
like that after what has happened here tonight? 

Hester — Your kind words of the past few minutes 
mark a new era in my life, and it would gratify me 
more than anything to show my appreciation in this 
way. 

Kitty — I will accept the honor on one condition. 

Hester— What is that? 

Kitty — That you will move in and room with me. 

Hester — That would be very nice, but it would 
rob me of a pleasure. My little hall room has fought 
the battle with mie, and is a partner in my success. 
It is only a little bit of sentiment, but I must stay 
there to the end. (Enter Miss Holcomb, left, band- 
age tied about her face. Kitty jumps up speechless.) 

Miss H. — Don't be frightened, Miss French. I re- 
turned to get my POPS. 

Kitty — (In confusion.) Are you, are you, ah, go- 
ing to expel me? 

Miss H. — Why, no, my dear. I am still amenable. 

Kitty — (Embracing her.) You good, kind teacher. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 



SCENE — Boys' room in Yale, one month later. 
Same decoration as in Act I, except no piano. Group 
four or more boys round sofa, right, one of them 
playing banjo, and all four singing good quartet. 
If quartet is extra good and is encored, they may 
here sing another good number. At conclusion enter 
Joey Turner. (If preferred, songs may be sung by 
town talent behind scenes — boys entering at conclu- 
sion.) 



21 



Joey — Better be saving your NOISE for tomor- 
row, fellows. 

Frank — Did you hear him, fellows? Calls our 
singing NOISE. 

Jimmie — Shows his appreciation of good music. 

Billy — Shows his lack of it. 

Tommie — No, fellows. Joey is charmed. "Music 
hath charms to soothe the savage," you know. (All 
laugh.) 

Joey — Now you have each had your speech. Let 
me explain. I call your splendid singing NOISE, 
because I am looking for noise. NOISE. NOTH- 
ING but NOISE. I have just returned from the ho- 
tel where that Harvard bunch is camping. They are 
in the pink of condition, and are anticipating tomor- 
row's game with the keenest delight. It has upset 
me, and made me believe that tomorrow Old Eli 
will go down before them. You must root as never 
before. Fill the heavens with thunder. So I say 
NOISE. 

Frank — We who cannot give brain and brawn will 
be there with heart and lungs to cheer you, Joey. 

Jimmie — Don't get discouraged, old man. Tomor- 
row we will disappoint Old Harvard AGAIN. We 
did not lose a whole team when Steinberg accepted 
the Kaiser's invite to the bullet fest. 

Billy — No, but in Peter Steinberg Yale lost the 
greatest center we ever had, and it has demoralized 
our team. If a few more such as he go to war we 
shall have no team at all. 

Tommie — O, I know that is all too true. But we 
must not lose heart, I do not blame Steinberg for 
doing what he regarded as his duty to the Father- 
land. It was just like old Peter. And if they will 
put him in that formation that is hammering on the 
allies' center, and give him the ball, he will buck 
that whole ALLIED line all the way to Paris, and 
then on to Bordeaux, before the first quarter is up. 

Frank — If he proves half as valuable to DER 
KAISER as he was to Yale, he should make him a 
Gidadier Brindle and give him a dozen Iron Crosses. 

Joey — I hope they put him in the front ranks. 

Jimmie — Why do you hope that? 

Joey — Because it is time somebody was making 
"First Down." 

22 



Tommie — Didn't some of Harvard's men go to 
war? 

Billy— No. They prefer to fight old Yale. 

Joey — That's so, and tomorrow night they will 
know that they have been in a fight — alright. I have 
it from Head Coach that with an even break of luck 
we ought to win. 

Frank— Capt. Stanage says the loss of Steinberg 
is irreparable. Even the scrubs go through our line 
at will. What will Harvard do ? 

Jimmie — Capt. Stanage has no business making 
such remarks. It will discourage the men. 

Joey — Capt. Stanage usually says what he thinks, 
and he has a way of thinking pretty straight. No 
man on the team will do more to win a victory. It 
was the dream of his life to captain our team, and it 
will hurt him to lose. 

Billy — Fellows, Bob Stanage is the greatest stu- 
dent in this institution. He is rich, intelligent, kind 
and noble. If he wins tomorrow's game I propose 
that we make him valedictorian. 

All—( Nearly together.) Good! Good! Good! 

Joey — Men, I propose that we make him that 
whether he wins or loses. 

Frank — Better still. He deserves it either way. 

Jimmie — If this bunch says he is valedictorian he 
is elected. I am with you. The honor would please 
him immensely, and it will help to heal the hurt he 
will suffer in tomorrow's defeat. O, how I wish he 
could win that game. Let's get a man to take Stein- 
berg's place. 

Joey — A man to take Peter Steinberg's place ! Are 
you crazy? 

Jimmie — I think it can be done. 

Joey — When we are listening for the wistle you 
talk of filling PETER STEINBERG'S place. It 
took Yale fifty years to find him. Ha, ha. I must 
be going. A good night's sleep has been ordered. 
(Starts left.) 

Billy— Wait a minute, Joey. That darn hermit 
down in the basement is our man. He played on the 
team two years ago and was considered the best we 
had. Unfortunately, this fellow is as poor as a 
church mouse, and had to give up all sports in order 
to work his way through. 

23 



Joey — That fellow who takes up laundry! 

Frank — Exactly so. Sweeps the floors, fires the 
furnace that has kept you warm, waits on table, sets 
•the highest mark in every course, and is held in the 
very highest esteem by every thinking man in Yale. 

Tommie — Yes, that fellow is chock full of College 
Spirit, else he could never do what he is in order to 
stay here. 

Jimmie — If we can persuade him to play I have 
every confidence that he will make good. I'll give 
$100 on a purse for him. 

Tommie — That's business. Count on me for a 
hundred. 

Joey — But, fellows, he is not in training. 

Frank — Now, don't let your mind work like that. 
He stays in training. Never drinks, takes abundant 
exercise in doing his work, keeps his conscience clear 
and sleeps the few hours left for this purpose like 
a growing baby. Take it from me, he stays cocked 
and primed for any and all emergencies. I will 
give another hundred. 

Billy — By George! fellows, put mje down for a 
hundred. 

Joey — I will make it another hundred. I like that 
fellow, and maybe he can pull us through. Let's go 
talk to coach about him. I'm afraid he will not like 
the idea of taking on a green man at this pinch of 
the game. 

Jimmie — Sena for Bob Stanage. He will know 
about this, and will give as much as all of us. 

Tommie — (Looking out door, left.) Great Scott ! 
Here comes Stanage now, and he will raise sand with 
me because I'm not in bed. (Enter Bob S., left.) 
Come in, Bob. We were planning to send a runner 
after you. 

Boo S. — Better send him out to chase the Varsity 
to bed. Why, Joey, are you going to stay up all 
night. Every man was ordered to bed at nine. To- 
morrow we go up against the longest odds old Yale 
ever met. Harvard is here with the strongest team 
in her history — 'and we have the weakest. 

Frank — O, no, Bob, we are better than that. 

Bob S. — Don't back that poor judgment with your 
good money, Frank. I'm awfully sorry, but I feel 
certain of defeat. Since Peter Steinberg felt it his 

24 



duty to go back to Europe and fight for his country 
our team has steadily gone to pieces. Every sub we 
have tried failed miserably. ^ O, I tell you fellows, 
the center of our line is a fright. 

Tommie— We have a remedy, Bob. 

Bob S.— Remedy h L (Coughs.) Here when it 

is time to dress for the game you talk of remedies ! 
Are you mad ? 

Tommie— Indeed, no. I'm serious as thunder. 

Frank—We have worked it all out for you to win 
tomorrow's game. 

Jimmie—O, it's great, Bob, and will work like a 
charm. 

Bob S.— Don't joke me, fellows. I'm blue enough 
already. It has been the dream of my life to lead 
my college to victory over old Harvard ; and here I 
am on the eve of the opportunity with defeat staring 
me in the face. It hurts. (Sits dejectedly.) 

Billy— ( Laying hand on Stanage shoulder.) Bob, 
we are with you whether you win or lose. You know 
more about football, and everything else, than we 
do, and we are not trying to dictate what you shall 
do. But because we love you and want you to win 
we have planned a great surprise for you and Old 
Harvard as well. 

Tommie— Listen to him, Bob, he is serious. 

Stanage — Can it be possible? 

j oe y^Yes, Bob. It is not only possible, but I 
really believe it is probable. 

Frank— -It's a sure thing. You say the center 
of your line is weak, why don't you strengthen it? 

Bob. S. — I'd give one thousand dollars for old Pe- 
ter Steinberg just two hours tomorrow afternoon. 

Billy— I told you so, fellows. That price will get 
our man. We have five hundred subscribed between 
us. You add the other five hundred and the work 
is done. 

Bob S.— Wait men. If there is to be any shady 
work attached to this I'm not in. I prefer to go 
down in honorable defeat, rather than win by unfair 
means. 

Jimmie — We know you well enough to believe ev- 
ery word of that, Bob. We do not propose to do 
dirty work. A man who has been nearly four years 
in Yale is a bona fide student in the very highest of 

25 



standing is certainly eligible for tomorrow's game. 
Such a man is here in the person of Frederick Dair. 

Bob S. — Ye gods! You are right. That man 
can do anything he tries. And for me he will try. 
I know him better than you fellows think I do ; for 
I have spent many a happy and profitable hour down 
in his dingy quarters trying to catch some of his 
optimism and ability. It is strange that I had not 
thought of him before. (Going left.) I shall speak 
to him at once. 

Frank — Tell him we will give him a cool thousand 
in cash. 

Bob S. — (At door.) I shall say nothing about 
money. It would insult him. He needs it, the Lord 
knows, but his love for Yale, and I hope his friend- 
ship for me, will impel him to do more than any 
amount of money could. (Exit left.) 

Joey — By George ! He forget to drive me to bed. 
And there's no use to go; for I could not sleep. 
My foreboding has given way to a belief that we 
shall win tomorrow's game. If Dair will undertake 
the job he will do a good one, and I predict that 
you will see the greatest exhibition of football ever 
seen in the East. 

Jimmie — When did Dair and Stanage become such 
warm friends? 

Frank — I don't know, but Bob's with him alright. 

Tommie — There is something in common with 
these two men. Dair is determined and capable, and 
Bob is sensible enough to know it. They are two 
great fellows — one rich, the other poor, but both 
filled with the same sort of principles. That is the 
onlv explanation I can give. 

Billy — It makes it clear enough for me, though I 
must confess it is not my custom to look quite so 
deep into the causes of things. 

Joey — I hone Stanage can persuade him; for it 
means everything to us. (Enter Frederick, left, car- 
rying laundry basket and going directly to dresser, 
from which he takes laundry.) 

Frederick — Pardon, men, while I get the laundry. 

Tommie — (Jumping up quickly.) For heaven's 
sake, come in, Dair. We have been talking about 
nothing else but you. 



26 



Frederick— 1 hope the conversation has not been 
as dry as its subject. 

Billy— (Going to Frederick.) Let me help you, 
old man. Give me the bag, I will make your rounds 
lor you. (Dair is confused.) You go look up Capt. 
Stan-age. He wants to see you. 

Frank— And say, Dair, don't refuse him. 

Jimmie— No, for the love of Mike, help him out. 

Tommie—Re needs you, and you can save us. 

Frederick— I don't understand. 

Joey— Capt. Stanage needs you in tomorrow's 
game, and we are betting on your doing what vou 
can for old Yale. 

Frederick— Needs me in tomorrow's game ! What 
could I do? 

Joey— You can do worlds, if you will. We know 
you can, and trust you. Old Yale needs you in a 
crisis. You won't fail us, will you ? Show your col- 
lege spirit. 

Frederick— Captain Stanage needs me ! Old Yale 
needs me m a crisis ! Show my college spirit » This 
is a compliment I least expected, and I wonder that 
you credit me with having any college spirit. But I 
have, men. It has never been my happy lot to show 
it ; nevertheless, I am loyal to the institution that 
atiords me the opportunity to do so much work. She 
has nrst call on every drop of blood in my body, and 
whatever my good friend Captain Stanage requires 
of me I shall undertake to do well. 

Joey— (Noisily.) Three cheers for the greatest 
man in Yale. 

Frederick— (Quickly.) Make it STANAGE, men. 
t^WT* ,S? rly together.) No! DAIR! DAIR! 
DAIR! (Enter Bob S., left.) 

Tommie—Heve he is, Bob. Says you and Yal* 
have first call on him. 

Bob S— Thank you for the compliment, my 
friend. I knew you would not fail me. 

Dair—Vm afraid I shall make a poor showing in 
this game, but if it is within my power to assist you, 
give me the signals. 

Bob ^.—Fellows cheer up and take inspiration 
from this man. Such as he may be depended up?n 
when you need something more than the ordinary. 
Win or lose, I guarantee to you that the center of our 

27 



line will not be found wanting. You have truly 
solved the problem, and I can now turn in and go to 
sleep, confident of victory. I desire to take this op- 
portunity to show my friend Dair how much I ap- 
preciate this expression of his regard for me. I 
have just learned of your plan to give me the high- 
est honor in this college. It is good of you to offer 
me this much coveted prize, and I assure you I am 
deeply sensible of the friendship and good will that 
prompt you; but I want to say that what I am in 
Yale is due to this man who fires the furnace and 
takes up your dirty shirts. 

Frederick— MR. STAN AGE ! Do not overwhelm 
me ! I don't deserve it. 

Bob S. — Certainly not, but you are going to get it. 
Fellows, you have it in your power to bestow the 
Valedictory. I have told you how very much I ap- 
preciate the honor. Now let me join you in bestow- 
ing it upon a man much more worthy, FREDER- 
ICK DAIR. 

Billy — Three more cheers for the Valedictorian. 

All— DAIR I DAIR! DAIR! 

Frederick — Gentlemen — 

Joey— Call us fellows, boys, FRIENDS. 

Frederick — It has been my desire many a time to 
do so, but, somehow, I could not cross the gulf be- 
tween us. It is easy for me now, because I know 
you are my friends. The few nice things I might 
be able to pick from the abundance of my heart 
would be so small a part of the whole, I shall con- 
tent myself with saying the happiness I now feel, 
and the appreciation I have shall lend me strength 
for tomorrow and forever. I invite all of you to 
go down to New York tomorrow night to witness 
the first presentation of the greatest play of the sea- 
son — I have ten complimentary seats. 

All — Thanks, thanks, thanks. 

Bob S. — You old snake ! I'll bet you wrote that 
play. 

All — Of course he did. 

Frederick — No, but I'm interested. Let it rest at 
that for a while. 

Bob S. — How much are you interested ? 

Frederick — You will know later. For the present 
we will let the subject rest. 

28 



Bob S. — We must also rest. Joey, get in bed. 
Boys, practice up on the victory song; for I feel as 
if tomorrow we shall have need of it. (Sing.) Fred- 
erick, come to my roomi and we will do a little signal 
practice. Good-night, all. (Joey, Stanage and Dair 
start left.) 

All — Good-night, good-night. 

Billy — (Bringing wine and glasses, also bottle of 
water.) Here, fellows, forget the training rules just 
a minute; and join me in a toast to Yale. 

Joey — (To Bob S.) Come on, Bob, what you say? 

Billy — (Pouring wine in glasses.) He would be 
disloyal to refuse. 

Tommie — (Handing glasses round.) Just for the 
stomach's sake. 

Frank — (Passing a glass to Dair, which he takes 
with hesitation.) Here, old hero (Dair working to 
center, drink her down, down, down. (Here all sing 
"Drink her down, down, down.") 

Tommie— ( Raising glass.) TO OLD ELI AND 
HIS BRAVEST SON, FREDERICK DAIR.' (All 
raise glasses to lips. Frederick hesitates and lowers 
glass a bit. Bob S. quickly follows, then others. This 
should be worked slowly for good effect.) 

Frederick — Don't let me spoil it, fellows. Go 
ahead and drink. I have never up to now indulged 
mvself with wine, and I know three good women it 
would please immensely if they knew I remembered 
them now. 

(If any applause hold positions — then TOMMIE 
slowly pours his glass back into decanter. Others 
follow him. Bob S., then Frederick. This should 
not be prolonged.) 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 



SCENE — Washday at the spring on country place 
belonging to parents of Hester and Frederick Dair. 
In sumimer following previous act. In deep right 
construct a rock spring, using back ground of small 
boxes carelessly piled and covered to imitate rocks. 
Set in large tub filled with water, and conceal tub by 

29 



obstructing view of audience. On left center wash- 
board with board and clothes in it. Other washday 
utensils to give good stage effect of washday on the 
farm. On rising curtain, Aunt Martha (or Irish 
scrubwoman, if desired, changing dialect to suit) is 
discovered rubbing vigorously on washboard in tub. 
and humming or singing plantation melody. If this 
character has good voice give her & good song with 
piano accompaniment. Also the chorus may be aug- 
mented by male or mixed quartette, concealed. 



Martha — (Holding up garment and examining 
the lace.) Dat sho is some fine lace. ' Tain't nuffin' 
lack what Miss Hester uset ter have, Lawd bless her 
heart. I sho is glad fur her. De chile have had 
nuffin' fur long ernuf, en I'se powerful glad dat she 
kin now have all de curus cloves she wants, instade 
er jest anything she could git. I tell yohit pays ter 
starve fur er while, en wuk, en wait, ef arterwards 
yer kin write er play, en git yer all de fine cloves 
yer wants. En dat brudder er her'n is got plenty, 
too. O, I'se suttinly proud er my chiln. Days had 
er hard time der Lawd knows, en dey old daddy en 
mamimy is all bent ober wid tryin' te£ keep buckie en 
tongue on speakin' turms. But hits all ober now, 
en ebrything is rosy. Sum er dese pore white trash 
what has alius had a leetle more'n us, but what has 
alius made fun er de way dese chiln has tried ter 
make somepin er deyselves, '1 hab er new song ter 
sing, I bound yer. En ef dey don't, dar won't be no 
sleep loss on dis side er de fence — 'cause WE kin 
suttinly take keer er number one fum dis day on. 
(Humming.) 

Mrs. S. — (Entering right with pail.) Howdy, 
Martha. Yer washin' terday. 

Martha — I suttinly is, en I neber ebjoyed hit more. 
I jest wants ter sing all er de time. (Holding up 
garment.) Jes' look at dat. Ain't hit er nice thing? 

Mrs. S. — (Taking, garment and examining it 
closely.) Wall, I don't know as I kin say hit is so 
powerful fine. Hit looks cheap ter me. (Returns 
garment.) When gals gits schoolin' in their hades, 
en bergins ter put on fine frills I think they had ort 
(ought) to be in de kitchin. Has Hester cum hum 
fum that skule yit? 

30 



Martha— Lawd, yes, Mrs. Scanlin, she cum yistidy. 
En yer ot see de chile. She ain't nuffin lack she wus 
when she went erway. She's purty en er fine lady 
now. 

Mrs. S.— Huh! I spose she's so upity she wont 
speak to us respectable folks what's got ten times 
more'n she ever kin call her'n. 

Martha — De Lawd bless yer time, Miss Scanlin. 
Done yer know dat gal better'n dat? She said she 
wus powerful glad ter be back hum whar she knowed 
ebrybody, en whar she wus bawn. She don't git 
upity, she don't. She knows better'n dat. 

Mrs. S.— Warl, I didn't know. Most folks gits 
stuck up when they gits prosprous. If she does she 
ort ter rickoleck how pore her peoples been ever since 
I been stayin' in this neck er the woods. 

Martha — Well, she not pore foks no longer. 

Mrs. s. — I reggin' she thinks jest 'cause she's 
been fore yare in college that she's plenty rich, but 
she'll find out that edioation won't fill her stommick. 

Martha — Ain't yer heared 'bout her fine play whut 
she writ? 

Mrs. S.— What ! No, I ain't heared about no play. 
En I wouldn't b'lieve hit if I did. 

Martha— You'd jes as well, 'cause hits er runnin' 
ober dem fine NEW YAWK stages lack er house er 
fire, en de man whuts er handlin' uv it sends her er 
THOUSAND DOLLARS er week ! Now whut yer 
say? 

Mrs. S. — I say I don't blieve er worrud uv hit. But 
I've been worried some little bit about whar de 
money's commin fum what's makin' things look bet- 
ter round here. I jest callated hit war borried. 

Martha— He, he, he, hey ! Hit war borried 2 but 
hit cum fum dey own bank account what's been 'cu- 
mulatin' when some folks was makin' fun er dem. 
Lawd, Miss Scanlin, you ain't seed nuffin yit. Jest 
wait ontill dey builds de fine house deys er plannin'. 
Den I guess you'll dream er vishun en haf er night- 
mar, sho ernuf. 

Mrs. S. — (Dipping up bucket of water from 
spring.) Wall, all I got ter say is thar won't be no 
livin' in peace in this locality when they gits in er 
fine house. I callate some folks kain't stand pros- 
perity. 

31 



Martha — WE'SE er guin ter stand her alright. 

Mrs. S. — If I thought they would let me look at 
'em, I'd go by the house, but I spose hit won't be 
long erfore we kain't git no more water fum this 
spring. 

Martha — I'l let yer have all yer want. (Looking 
right.) Heah cum Mr. Freddie now. 

Mrs. S. — I'l jest stay ter see ef he's stuck up, too. 

Frederick — (Entering right.) Mammy will you 
— ah (sees Mrs. S. and removes hat quickly, advanc- 
ing with deep feeling and very affably.) Why here is 
Mrs. Scanlin. (Offers hand.) How glad I am to 
see you. 

Mrs. S. — I didn' know whether you would be or 
not. 

Frederick — Why, of course, I am glad. I shall 
always be deeply interested in you and our other 
good neighbors. Won't you go up to the house and 
stay for dinner? Hester was just this morning wish- 
ing she could see you. 

Mrs. S. — Wall, no, I reggin' not. I ain't got time. 
En besides, I jest sposed since you en Hester has 
got on so well yer won't want eny sich as us country 
folks hangin' round in the way. 

Frederick — Mrs. Scanlin, do you really think 
either Hester or I could forget our good neighbors 
and friends in that way ? 

Mrs. S. — Wall, I didn't know. Martha tells me 
that yer got plenty er money now, en I jest sposed 
yer would be stuck up. 

Frederick — We have managed so as to make life 
brighter for ourselves, Mrs. Scanlin, but we nuean 
to make it brighter for others as well. You will al- 
ways be entirely welcome at our house, and we want 
you to come often. 

Mrs. S. — That sounds lack yer hadn't lost all yer 
sense in gittin' er edication, en I hopes yer will stick 
to hit. 

Frederick — You bet I'm going to stick ; and I shall 
expect to see you often. 

Mrs. S. — I cain't go this time, but I'll be up in a 
few days. (Goinff left.) I'm glad ter see yer back, 
Freddie, er, er, MR, DAIR. 

Frederick — No, no, don't change it. I want you 



32 



to call me Freddie as you have always done. It 
sounds plenty good enough for me. 

Mrs. S.— Wall, I must be er goin'. Come roun'. 

Frederick— Thank you. I'm coming, you bet. 
(Exit Mrs. S., left.) 

Martha— Ef yer lub her lack dat, why done yer 
go hum wid her, en carry dat bucket er water ? 

Frederick— That's right. (Starts after Mrs. S.) 

Martha— Stop dat, boy. I object. 

Frederick — (Laughing.) What am I to do, Mam- 
my? You say I should do a thing, and then you 
forbid me doing it. I'm in a pretty tight place. 

Martha — I guess you kin lie outen hit, lack yer 
did jest now. Dat ole Scanlin 'oman have been 
here talkin' scandlous 'bout Miss Hester, en I ain't 
er goin' ter stan' fur hit. 

Frederick— O, is that it? You just keep quiet 
and watch me win her over to like us. It will be a 
very easy matter to rout her small amount of envy 
with a little kind respect.) Goes to spring.) 

Martha— Yer had better lay dat "KIND RE- 
SPECT" erisde, en use some " stiff upper lip" on 
her. 

Frederick — That would put my code of life on a 
plane with hers; and you see my plan is to try to 
lift her up so that she may see the better side. I 
have learned to sympathize with, rather than to 
blame, those who suffer from their own folly. 
(Kneels down to drink.) 

Martha— -Wall, I ain't reached dat pint yit, en I 
guess I'se too old ter change any mo'. 

Frederick— (Rising and breathing fast.) That is 
the best water in the world, Mammy. The only 
trouble I find with it is that I'm not big enough to 
hold as much as I want. 

Martha— Hit sho duse make de dut (dirt) fly, ef 
yer puts de elbow grease behind her. 

Frederick— (Going right.) We are looking for 
a friend of mine today, and want you to put on your 
Sunday airs. He is very rich and accustomed to 
very fine things; but you will have no trouble at 
all in pleasing him. 

Martha— Ef he ain't ter blame rich I kin handle 
him alright. My plan of attack is guine ter be di- 
rected straight at his stummick ; 'cause dat is bound 

33 



ter be his weak spot, en I oallate I kin do some fine 
cookin'. 

Frederick — You have picked his vulnerable spot, 
alright. He is a great epicure. 

Martha— Lawd ha' mercy! EPICURE! Den 
what's he doin' outen de silum? 

Frederick — (Laughing.) You don't understand. 
That word means that he likes good things to eat. 

Martha — Hit's er mighty funny way ter say hit. 
When am he comin'? 

Frederick — This afternoon. 

Martha — Wall, I'se erbout done dis washin', en 
I'll be up to de house in a short time. Miss Hester's 
got more cloves den she used ter have, en dey is so 
nice en fine I lacks ter do 'em well. 

Frederick — The poor girl may now have pretty 
things to her heart's content. She has won a great 
prize, and I'm proud of her. 

Martha — So is I. 

Frederick — It would be very lonely here if she 
should marry and leave us, wouldn't it ? 

Martha— MARRY ! What you talkin' 'bout, boy ? 

Frederick — Nothing, nothing. 

Martha — Wall, ef she marries, you lose bofe er 
us. 'Cause I'se guin ter stay wid her. 

Frederick — Who will look after me? 

Martha — I donno. Guess yer'l have ter git yer er 
'oman. 

Frederick — (Laughing.) Well, now, I hadn't 
thought of that. 

Martha — What yer been doin', den? Better get 
busy. 

Frederick — I have been trying to make myself 
worthy of a good woman's love, believing that when 
I shall have accomplished this it will be no trouble 
to find her. 

Martha — Don't take no chances, boy. Hook up. 

Frederick — (Laughing. ) Alright, mammy. ( Go- 
ing right.) Come to the house as soon as you can 
and get things in shape for my friend. He is an 
old college chum of mine, and the best friend I ever 
had. Do not say a word to Hester about his com- 
ing. I want it to be a surprise for her. 

Martha — En dat is why you feelin' blue 'bout her 
marryin'? 

34 



Frederick — (Quickly.) O, heavens, no. Bob 
Stanage does not know what my sister looks like. 
Besides, he is a lion of New York society, and has 
the pick of the four hundred. He is just a good 
fr. end of mine traveling in the West, and wired that 
he would stop over to see me. 

Martha — Uh, uh. Miss Hester is good ernuf fur 
him, ef he is rich. Ain't she wuf hit? 

Frederick — Of course she u is wuf hit," but we are 
talking idly. You come as soon as you can and get 
everything ready for him. 

Martha — Alrat. (Exit F., right.) Guin ter be 
sumpin' doin' roun' heah, I bound yer. Dis isii.\V 
YAWK SOCIETY EPICURE ain't er scoutin' 
roun' in dese sticks fur nuffin. Hit ami jest lack Mr. 
Lincum sayed, "Yer cain't fool dis nigger all er ae 
time." (Takes up basket of clothes and starts right.) 
Gosh ! What '1 dat ole Scanlin 'oman say. (Going 
off right, holding basket of clothes in front of her, 
bumps into Bob Stanage, spilling clothes.) Lo ; 1), 
lo; look out dar, Mister. You dun made me sile 
Miss Hester's nice cloves. (Both stoop to pick them 
up, colliding again.) 

Bob S. — I beg your pardon, Aunty. I did not 
mean to be off side like that. 

Martha— Off side nuffin. Ef yer had been "OFF 
SIDE" dar wouldn't er been no trouble. De trouble 
is dat yer is OFF CENTER. (Going to tub, dumps 
clothes in.) Now I'se got ter wash all er dese out 
ergin, en dase er waitin' fur me ter fix up fur de 
rich company what's cummin. 

Bob S. — (Taking bill from pocket.) It's too bad, 
auntie, and I beg your pardon again. (Offers her 
the money.) Let me help you wash the garments. 

Martha — (Takes money.) Thank yer, sah. (Looks 
at bill, then at Bob, at bill and then Bob again.) 
Lawd, Mistah. Youse dat RICH COMPANY YO- 
SEF. Erscuse me, please. (Bows very low.) I'se 
er guin ter de house rat now en tell 'em youse cum. 

Bob S. — No, no. Don't do that. I want to sur- 
prise Frederick. 

Martha — Lawd, bless my time. I knows how pow- 
erful bad yer wants ter SPRISE FREDERICK. 
He, he, he. SPRISE FREDERICK ! GWAN ! 

Bob S. — I don't get your meaning. 

85 



Martha — No, er cose not. Love am powerful 
blind — when hit am sho er de way. 

Bob S. — You've certainly got the wrong fellow 
this time, granny. I'm neither in love, nor blind. 
I assure you my heart is as free as the little birds 
that flit over your head here in these beautiful old 
trees. 

Martha — En lack dese little birds what's flitter-in' 
roun' in dese beautiful old trees, youse er lookin fur 
er mate. En when yer gits her yer got ter be good 
to her — en take me, too. 

Bob S. — Well, I be — (Cough) What are you run- 
ning here? A matrimonial bureau? 

Martha — In spots. 

Bob S. — (Laughs.) Then see what you can do 
for me. 

Martha — Dat's right ; own up lack er man. 

Bob S. — What do you charge for your services ? 

Martha — Don't charge nuffin. Jest ax dat yer 
keep yer mouf shet. 

Bob S. — That is a virtue I have never acquired. 
Before you start your schemes tell me about my 
friend, Frederick Dair. 

Martha— Don't know no FREDERICK Dair. Mr. 
Freddie libs up dar on de hill. He is er fine man. 

Bob S. — They don't make them any better, 
Granny. 

Martha — You done lack him no better'n he lacks 
yer. He's got yer pictur in his room, en keeps hit 
jest lack hit war his gal's. 

Bob S. — That is good of him. (Sits, on rock.) 
Tell me about his boyhood. 

Martha — I kin do hit, 'cause I'se been wid him all 
de way. Ter bergin wid, he was de REDDEST 
baby I eber seen, en — 

Bob S. — (Embarrassed.) O, I say, auntie, auntie, 
let's take him up at a later age. 

Martha — Alrat, den, we will cum down de line to 
de time when he wus two days old, en dat hungry 
dat er cow couldn't er give all de milk he 

Bob S. — HOLD on there. I grant you that is 
true, and that from then until he was ten he had 
measles, whooping cough, smallpox and all the ail- 
ments common to babies — 



36 



Martha — Yassar, en de wussest colic you eber 
seed — 

Bob S. — That will be alright. Now tell me about 
his BOYHOOD. That is the subject we started out 
on, you know. 

Martha — Yassar, er cose, but dar is got to be er 
baby afore dar is any boyhood ter talk erbout. 

Boh S.— Is that so? 

Martha — Hit used ter be. Wall at ten Mr. Freddie 
wus big ernuf ter wuk, en he's daddy wus pore. Dey 
wuked mighty hard, en Mr. Freddie growed up in 
de furrow. He went ter school all he could, en when 
he wus erbout nineteen he went ter teachin' fur two 
year. Den he went erway ter school, en stayed fore 
year. What he done dem fore year de Lawd only 
knows. 

Bob S. — I know what he did these four years, and 
to make your history complete I will tell you. One 
September morning he reached Yale College and 
asked for work that he might pay a part of his ex- 
penses. He was given the job of firing a furnace 
and waiting on table. Students of wealth and lux- 
ury laughed at him, and made him feel the cold and 
misery of neglect. It only seemed to nerve him 
flor the greatest fight I ever saw. Through their 
sneers he wrought out a career that will stand on top 
at Yale for generations. Upon their disregard he 
set up a standard for real men to live by. And in 
the last year of his work there came to him in double 
bounty, as if to make amends, such hero-worship as 
few men ever enjoy. 

There were many things he did worth keeping 
alive, but the time he took Peter Steinberg's place 
on the football team and led it to victory stands out 
in my mind as the most glorious of all. Did he ever 
tell you about it? 

Martha — He done brag. 

Bob S. — He doesn't have to. Every man in the 
East is doing it for him. It was ten o'clock on the 
night before we met our old enemy, Harvard. Our 
team was good, but we had lost our best man. With 
out him we could not hope to win. I was captain of 
the team. My father, mother and sister were coming 
down to see mie lead it to victory, and I would have 
given my right arm for a man to take .Peter Stein- 

37 



berg's place and help me to win that victory. I 
had exhausted every possible means to find that man 
and had failed miserably. Indeed, I was bogged 
in a slough of humiliation and despond. Only foot- 
ball captains who have the confidence and loyalty 
of their teams can know how utterly miserable I 
was, as I stalked about the campus running in the 
men for a good night's rest. Finally, I came upon 
a bunch of fellows who suggested to me that Fred- 
erick Dair could pull us through. Like lightning 
the thought filled me with hope. I knew he could 
and would do anything in his power for me; for we 
were friends. The fellows caught him on his round 
with his laundry basket and made it known to him 
that I needed him. He replied, "Give me the sig- 
nals." Word that Frederick Dair would play spread 
like wild fire, and every man took courage and de- 
termination. The great college of Yale burst out 
with a new song, and all eyes were upon him. They 
had seen him win many a fight, and knew he would 
not fail now. 

We went upon the field the next day amid the 
cheers of thousands. The first play I gave Dair the 
ball and he tore through that Crimson line as if it 
was tissue. My men took courage and fought like 
demons. In the first quarter we piled up twelve 
points to Harvard's nothing. We were wild, crazy. 
I was filled with happiness, because the one dream 
of my life had been to lead such a team against Har- 
vard. The great stadium thundered my name, for- 
getting that grim and determined fellow who was 
down in the center of the line making it all possible. 
It is true I was doing my best, but the dynamo that 
drove my machine took its lightning snap and power 
from the center of the line where my friend played. 
Early in the second quarter he was hurt. When we 
took him from the field he begged to stay and fight. 
I hope I shall never forget the brotherly kindness 
in his voice when he said to me, "Bob, if it gets close 
I'm coming back." A sub was put in his place, and 
over him Harvard made gains at will. The dynamo 
was gone. My victory was slipping through my fin- 
gers. That Crimson line was marching steadily to- 
wards our goal. In the quarter they made six points, 
and in the third quarter six more. Our margin was 

38 



gone, and we settled to a desperate fight on the de- 
fensive. I kicked many times, sending the ball 
back, but on came that Crimson line. The whistle 
blew for the last quarter and back we went to meet 
the old enemy grinning at us through their head- 
gears. They knew we could not prevent them from 
scoring. We knew it, too. On the kick-off, which 
was ours, they advanced the ball to our twenty-yard 
line. O, what anguish ruled every loyal son of Eli ! 
We were fighting as never before, yet they came 
steadily on to the shadow of our goal. It was "first 
down, six inches to gain," and we should bite the 
dust. "42-43-9-27," rang out the signal which was to 
shatter the dream of my lifetime. We set ourselves 
for the rush, and then, clear and strong amid the 
stillness of that awful second rang out the referee's 
whistle. I looked up to see what was the matter, 
and, auntie, there is no forgetting the picture I be- 
held through the blood that was streaming down 
over my eyes. From the side lines, fighting with his 
one good arm those who tried to restrain him, came 
Frederick Dair. 

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I beg him 
to go back, for I knew he was suffering too much 
to return. He only replied, "I can't stand it, Bob, 
let me have my place." With this he jerked the sub 
who had taken his place several feet back and set- 
tled down in front of that Crimson line to stay its 
mighty onrush. It was as if a thousand men had 
joined us. "42-43-9-27-16" came the same signal over 
center. The old dynamo responded, and when £he 
scrimmage was cleared the ball was ten feet away: 
20,000 people shouted for DAIR. Again they tried 
our line, again they lost and fumbled. Ye gods ! how 
we went after that bounding ball ! In an instant 
two tons of raging humanity settled down on the 
spot where it was last seen. The referees and um- 
pires rushed in and tried to disentangle that obsti- 
nate bunch. Slowly the human ball was unwound, 
and at the center of it lay Frederick Dair, crouched 
over the fumbled prize. Like lightning we crushed 
through the line for seven yards. Again we plowed 
through, and again and again, marching steadily 
down the field until it was "First down on Harvard's 
last white line, with thirty seconds to p*lay. We 

39 



could feel the victor's joy. Just one more good gain 
and the gamie was ours. I gave the ball to the hero, 
who alone deserved it. BANG! went the pride of 
Yale into that Crimson line. The whistle ended the 
game, but beneath Harvard's goal lay Frederick 
Dair, clutching in his shattered arm the ball for 
which my father has refused $10,000 ; for it was five 
inches over the line. 

Martha — Mr. Freddie ort ter have dat ball. 

Bob S. — He gave it to me. That is what makes it 
priceless. 

Martha — (Hurriedly.) Lawd ! I got ter be goin' 
to de house. Yer done made me fergit what Miss 
Hester tole me. 

Bob S.— Who is Miss Hester? 

Martha — She's Mr. Freddie's sister. 

Bob S. — The one who wrote that great play ? 

Martha — Yassar. She's his sister now, but I done 
know how long she goin' ter be. 

Bob S. — Is she soon to be married ? 

Martha — Ef I has mah way, she am. 

Bob S. — Would you mind telling me who the 
lucky man is ? 

Martha — (Going right with basket of clothes.) 
He's daddv's got er football wuf TEN THOUSAND 
DOLLARS. 

Bob S. — (Laughing.) Here, here, here. Let me 
explain to you. 

Martha — I understan'. (Hester is heard off right 
singing as she comes along the woods path to the 
spring. Martha and Bob S. listen.) How's dat? 

Hester — (Calling from a distance.) Mammy, O, 
mammy. Why don't you come on? 

Martha — (Answering.) I'se er comin', honey. 
(Exit right, humming.) 

Bob S. — I was never afraid of women, but I really 
believe if that voice had come on down here I should 
have jumped into this spring. (Looks at spring.) 
What a splendid stream of good, cool water ! I will 
take on some of it in the old-fashioned way, and then 
go up to the house. (Kneels down to drink from 
spring. Hester enters, right, carrying pail. Seeing 
Bob, smiles and tiptoes up to him.) 

Hester — (To audience.) Now is my chance to 
play a trick on Freddie. (Advances and takes Bob 

40 



S. by ankle and heads him over in the spring. He 
splashes the water with his hands, getting quite wet 
and disheveling hair and tie. Hester laughing up- 
roariously.) Promise not to play even and I will 
let you up. 

Bob S. — Yes, indeed. (Hester sees her mistake.) 

Hester — O, I beg your pardon. Please be kind 
enough to forgive me. I thought you were Freddie. 

Bob S. — (Dripping with water and sputtering ad 
lib.) No. I'm, I'm, I'm not FREDDIE. 

Hester — So I see. 

Bob S. — No, I'm not Freddie. Wish I was. 

Hester — I'm his sister. 

Bob S. — Er, er, er. Wish I was. 

Hester — As you are not so unfortunate, would you 
mind telling me who you are? 

Bob S. — Why, haven't I told you I am Bob Stan- 
age — Wet Bob Stanage. 

Hester — (Cordially and a bit playfully.) MR. 
STANAGE! Won't you forget how very rude I 
was? 

Bob S. — (Seriously.) No. I do not wish to for- 
get any part of this pleasant meeting. To be soused 
into the spring by the greatest living playwright is 
an enviable experience. 

Hester — You are very kind, Mr. Stanage, which 
makes me all the more regretful that I treated you 
so coolly. Nevertheless, you are welcome to my 
brother's home. He has been counting the minutes, 
and will be happy to see you. (Enter Frederick, 
right.) 

Frederick — Why, hello, Bob! Glad to see you, 
old fellow. 

Bob S. — (Shaking hands.) Glad to be here, you 
bet. 

Frederick — (Discovering that he is wet.) You 
are wet. Did you fall into the spring? 

Bob S. — O, er, ah. (Looks at Hester.) Sure ! Isn't 
it a joke? 

Frederick — Have you met my sister? 

Hester — Yes. We have been quite formally intro- 
duced. 

Bob S. — (Laughing.) That is how I came to fall 
into the spring. 



41 



Frederick— 1 should say that is "QUITE FOR- 
MALLY." 

Hester — Now let me explain. I found Mr. Stall- 
age here drinking just like you and the horses al- 
ways drink, and thinking it was yourself and I could 
get even with you for some of your mischief, I pro- 
ceeded to head him over. 

Frederick — That's a good joke on both of you. 

Bob S. — (Shivering.) Gee, but it's cold in that 
spring. 

Frederick — (Taking Bob by arm.) Come to the 
house and change, Bob. Dinner will be ready pres- 
ently. (Hester goes to spring to dip up pail of 
water.) 

Bob S. — If you will promise not to push me in, 
I'll get that water for you, Miss Dair. 

Hester — (Pleasantly.) No, thank you. This wa- 
ter is for your dinner. I prefer to dip it up — carry 
it up the hill — and pour it for you. 

Frederick — Gee, Bob, she wants to make you feel 
welcome so that you will forgive her for that good 
ducking. 

Bob S. — I think it pays to be stubborn about for- 
giving. (Exit Bob and Frederick, right.) 

Hester — (Looking after them.) O, isn't he fine! 
I don't blame Freddie for liking him. (Dips up wa- 
ter.) I could like him myself. (Starts left, goes 
back right, back left, shows confusion.) Which is 
the way to the house? (Goes right, laughing, and 
exits.) 

Mrs. S. — (Entering left, carrying pail, looks off 
right.) Huh! He's stuck up, too. I guess Hester 
is er settin' her cap ter ketch him ; but he looks lack 
he's got too much sense ter be fooled by her. (Dips 
up water.) And when the truth is knowed, I bet all 
this talk 'bout prosperty is found out ter be a false 
allarrum. (Enter Martha, left, and advances hur- 
riedly to spring for water.) Wall, is yer got that 
fine man fixed up yit. I guess yo'uns is er tryin' ter 
put the big pot in the little'n today. 

Martha — Lawd, Mrs. Scanlin. Wese dun flung dat 
LITTLE pot erway. (Hurries off right. 

Mrs. S. — (To audience.) I tole yer so. I tole yer 
so. Even that old nigger is ketchin' the big head en' 
gittin' upity. Ain't hit strange how some folks '1 

42 



cook up all they got when somebody's what's better'n 
they is comes roun' en then go hongry fur a week! 
I say they had ort ter have more sense en less edica- 
tion. Now don't understan' me ter be er knockin 
agin edication. I ain't. Hits er fine thing, but yer 
got ter be powerful keerful how yer hitches her up. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE 2— Same as Scene 1 in this Act. Four 
days later. Hester ^discovered seated near spring 
with writing pad. Martha at washtub, left. 



Martha — How's yer gittin' erlong wid day play, 
honey. Is yer got 'em married yit? 

Hester — (Fretfully.) How can I write when you 
are talking such nonsense. Don't interrupt me any 
more, please. This manuscript must be in New York 
within ten days, and I know it will be rejected. It 
is full of nothing but nonsense. 

Martha — You'se 'cited, honey. Cam yosef. You'se 
blue 'case Mr. Stangum is goin' erway. 

Hester — I'm not excited. I'm not blue. (Tears up 
sheet.) You are foolish. 

Martha — He, he, he, hey. Yer cain't fool yer ole 
black mammy. Why done yer own up, honey ? 

Hester — (Angrily.) I forbid you to talk to me in 
that way. If you cannot keep quiet and refrain from 
those silly insinuations, I shall send you away. Now ! 

Martha — Yer ain't mad, is yer, chile? 

Hester — I should say I am mad. 

Martha — (Teasingly.) Den what's yer face so 
red fur? What's dem purty eyes er laughin so fur? 

Hester — (Rising.) Stop! Mr. Stanage would 
throw you over a tree if he knew you were talking 
to me that way. 

Martha- — (Laughing.) Now who done said any- 
thing erbout MR. STANGUM? I knowed hit! 1 
knowed it! (Looking right.) Lawd, heah he cum 
wid Mr. Freddie. I'se er guin ter leab hit wid yer, 
honey. En 'member time's scase. (Exit left. Enter 
Bob and Frederick, right.) 

43 



Frederick — I'm sorry you must go so soon, Bob. 

Bob S. — Awfully sorry I must go, Frederick. 
(Sees Hester.) Ah, here's the wanderer. We are 
looking for you, Miss Dair. I have been called home 
and must leave at once. 

Hester — We shall miss you, Mr* Stanage. Your 
visit has been delightful, I assure you. 

Bob S. — To me it has been more than that. I 
shall never forget it, and sincerely hope it may be 
repeated at an early date. 

Frederick — If you promise that it shall be, we will 
let you go. (Enter Martha, left.) 

Martha — Is yer guin erway, Mr. Stangum? 

Bob S. — Yes, mammy, I must. I have enjoyed 
your good cooking very much. (Hands her bill.) 
Will you take this for your trouble? 

Martha — Tain't been no trouble er tall. But I 
reggin I better make yer feel good by takin' hit. 
(Takes bill, bowing low.) Thank yer, sah. Thank 
yer, sah. (Hands bill to Hester.) Here, Miss Hes- 
ter, keep it fur me. I'se erfraid I mought lose her. 
Good-toy, Mr. Stangum. Next time you cum I'll sho 
you some real cookin'. (Starts left, turns back.) Er, 
ah, Mr. Freddie, dah's er man at de house wants ter 
see you at oncet, en I tole him you'd be rat up. (To 
audience). Dat's a big un, but I got ter git him 
outen de way some how. (Exit, left.) 

Frederick — I'll see what he wants and be back in- 
stantly. (Exit left.) 

Bob S. — I wish I had a jug so I could take some 
of this good cold spring water home with me. 

Hester — Let me get one for you. 

Bob S. — No, no. Don't trouble. It would soon 
become warm and stale anyway. I can take instead 
the memory of how good it is, and how beautiful its 
surroundings are. These will never become stale. 
They may grow old, but I know they will become 
sweeter and better. 

Hester — I'm glad you like them well enough to 
want to remember how they look. This to me is a 
dear spot of earth. Here I sit and dream, and write. 
My inspiration comes from the earth and the trees 
and sky. I can't write very much about people, but 
nature I know from having lived in her lap. 

Bob S. — Yes, it is the secret of your great play — 

44 



that vivid picture of life on the Prairie. But, tell 
me, if you don't mind, why, in your play, you choose 
not to give your heroine a happier lot. 

Hester — I was writing of real life, and could not 
belie it. 

Bob S. — Did you ever know a girl who suffered as 
much as your heroine? 

Hester — She had to suffer to reach her mark, and 
she was willing, wasn't she? 

Bob S. — Indeed, it was her choice. 

Hester — So it is with many, in real life. It is 
something out beyond us — calling in a strange voice 
— and we follow. 

Bob S. — I know what you mean. I have heard 
that strange voice and am following it, even this 
morning when for the moment I must turn my back 
upon it. It first called to me four days ago when 
this woodland echoed your sweet voice time and 
again as if it wanted to keep it alive and enjoy it 
forever. So do I, Hester. I know that you are too 
good and great for me to hope to win as my own. 
Yet, I'm not a coward. I love you. Complete my 
life's friendships by giving me for my owji the heart 
of Frederick Dair's sister. Promise, will you? 

Hester — Mr. Stanage, I have no heart to give you. 
It is yours already, and I am willing that you keep 
it. (Enter Frederick, left.) 

Frederick — What are we to do with mammy? 
There was no man at all to see me. It was a f rabri 
cation pure and simple. (Sees the situation.) 
What's the matter here ? (Silence.) Somebody say 
something. Don't leave me to guess; I might go 
wrong. (Hester hides her face on Frederick's shoul- 
der.) 

Bob S. — Upon that shoulder that was shattered 
for me to win a victory hangs another prize I covet 
far more than anything I have ever wanted in my 
life. Just once again, old fellow, be generous; for 
without Hester I could never be happy. 

Frederick — If it makes her happy, Bob, I could 
not be selfish enough to deny you. (Takes her hand 
and gives it to Bob.) I'm glad I have something so 



45 



good and pure to give you to show my friendship. 
(Enter Martha, left.) 
Martha^-"0, MY PROPHETIC SOUL." 

CURTAIN. 

END. 



University of Chicago. 

Your play was presented at Checotah, Okla., with great 
success. Receipts about $145.00. 

I cannot recommend it too highly. 

— G. W. Gable. 
Zenith, Ga. 

We presented your play to several audiences that were 
theatre-goers and had them completely under our control 
as to tears and laughter. Its name and fame have gone 
out wide, and this play would get a much larger crowd if 
presented here again than any we could offer. IT PAID 
EXTRA WELL. 

— J. C. Thames. 
Bay Minette, Ala. 

"THE WINNING OF LATANE CASHTON" was a great 
success. We will have to repeat it to satisfy the people. 

— S. M. Tharp, Prin. 
Newbern, Tenn. 

Last night we put on your play and had the largest 
audience ever assembled in this Opera House. It made a 
hit and everybody was highly pleased. 

— M. E. Vaughan, Supt. 
Daingerfield, Texas. 

It was a great success. Thank you for your courtesies. 

Thos. B. Price, Supt. 
Roff, Okla. 

The best strong play for amateurs I ever saw. In a 
class to itself. We played last night to a large and over- 
whelmingly enthusiastic audience. Enclosed find settle- 
ment in full. Let me have another PARKER play. 

— J. B. Steed, Supt. 
Mackville, Ky. 

"THE WINNING OF LATANE" was presented by my 
school December 23rd, and proved a great success from 
every standpoint. It was witnessed and complimented by 
a large and appreciative audience. I am sending you re- 
mittance and thanks for your kindness. 

— Chas. B. Bottom, Prin. 
Naruna, Va. 

It was a perfect success. Frank and Trusty frequently 
brought the house down in applause. 

— Miss Rosa Gilliam, Prin. Naruna High School. 
Union City, Tenn. 

"THE WINNING OF LATANE" is a dandy, no matter 
which way you look at it. However, it is too long. 

— Arthur C. Nute, Supt. City Schools. 

46 





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